


Of Things That May Be Only

by DrNeverland



Series: Of Things That May Be Only 'Verse [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Advent Children, Post Dirge of Cerberus, Prophetic Visions, Reincarnation, Slow Build, Surgery, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 82,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrNeverland/pseuds/DrNeverland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a few years after Dirge of Cerberus, Sephiroth returns to the Planet again, but before he and Cloud can have another epic battle, a little accident gives Sephiroth a vision of what may come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Things That May Be Only

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, in part, by A Christmas Carol, specifically: "Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only? Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead, but if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!" Mostly because I started this in December so there was... influence (everywherrrrrrrre). The first chapter is kind of long because it was going to be a one-off with a kind of vague ending but I didn't want to leave it there, so I continued - so the tone may feel slightly off between Chapter 1 and the rest.

Of Things That May Be Only

Near the Forgotten City of Ajit, born from the waters where the Last Cetra had been laid to rest, a capsule of crystalized Mako emerged from the clear waters, the capsule filled with blackish muck.

This time, they were prepared for it, prepared for _him_ and his return.

It had been three years since the last time He’d been back and Cloud had sent Him spiraling back to the Lifestream in a blur of black feathers. His clone, small and frail looking, died in the rain, in Cloud’s arms.

This time there was no clone, no larva, no puppet for Sephiroth’s to possess. From the waters Kadaj had poisoned five years prior, Jenova rebuilt her calamitous son and set him loose upon the Planet for him to carry out her mission of fury.

Cloud had been waiting for him this time, waiting at the water’s edge while the Mako shell he came from cracked and shattered.

Bits of shell and petrified wood rained underneath them as they fought, creating a bone-white dust on the earth, swords singing against each other, creating sparks that threatened to turn to flames.

Standing atop a shell hut, Sephiroth looked down at his quarry. Cloud stood below him, ready and waiting for his next strike.

Sliding a foot down the ancient shell building to begin his descent, Sephiroth felt the shell begin to crack under his weight – suddenly, he fell, the house giving away below and dumping him into the broken structure.

 _How embarrassing,_ was his last thought just before he lost consciousness.

Sephiroth came to on his stomach, face down in soft, unfamiliar dirt. Pushing himself to his feet, he attempted to get his bearings. The first thing that registered with him was that he was not only alone, but definitely not in Ajit anymore. The field, if it could be called that, was open and gray, a sunless desert of dry, cracked earth that stretched in all directions, shadowed by storm clouds that produced neither rain nor wind.

Tightening his grip on Masamune, he started forward, keeping a wary eye on the storm above him. Lightning flickered between the clouds, and while he reasoned he could survive a lightning strike, Sephiroth still would have found it highly inconvenient to be struck anyway.

Continuing on for hours, Sephiroth paused when he heard a familiar noise: swords crossing in battle. Reasoning that he could be able to determine his location now, he diverted from the path in his mind and followed the sounds of fighting. He could make out two distinct voices now, and was struck by the familiar voice of Cloud up against a foe.

It wasn’t difficult to find Cloud and his opponent in the flat plane; what was a little difficult to comprehend was the fact that Cloud was facing ...Sephiroth.

_What?_

Cloud, at least he seemed like Cloud, faced off with a specter of Sephiroth, but even Cloud was not the same one he’d left in Ajit just hours ago. He was definitely older, lines of a permanent scowl etched into his face; a shadow of facial hair dotted his jawline. His blond spiky hair was pale and matted to his head with dried blood, and his eyes were sharp with fury. His skin was stretched taut over his muscles, making him look sinewy and dehydrated, despite the fact that it did not seem to hinder him in the least.

Sephiroth, rather, the specter of him, was in a similar state. Leather coat hanging in tatters at his belted waist, this shadow of Sephiroth had scars lining his arms among the dirt the two of them seemed to kick up on each other. His silvery-white hair was as equally bloodied and an ashy gray color, hanging in unkempt strings around this other-Sephiroth’s head and shoulders. When he turned in battle, Sephiroth saw his specter’s face and felt something long-buried gasp in horror. Unlike the calm mask of emotion Sephiroth had perfected in life, this one’s face was completely devoid of anything, not blinking inky black eyes as he parried away one of Cloud’s attacks.

 _A fighting puppet, if anything,_ observed Sephiroth of his other-self. _If this tableau is meant as a message, it’s rather blunt for Her._ This scene obviously meant something, that much he could guess easily. The Ancient enjoyed theatrics when she had the power to show off.

Neither this Cloud nor the other Sephiroth seemed to notice their nearby witness, continuing on their fight like a rehearsed dance until Puppet-Sephiroth got the upper hand and ran Cloud through, pushing with a horribly ill-kept Masamune until the hilt was up against Cloud’s chest.  
  
Gasping for air from his punctured lung, Cloud braced one hand on other-Sephiroth’s shoulder. Expectedly, the shadow didn’t seem to react, just slowly pulling the blade out until Cloud grunted in pain.

Falling against his enemy, Cloud stumbled to keep his footing, clasping at the old belts across Sephiroth’s chest. To current-Sephiroth’s surprise, his shadow-self held Cloud up, looking down at him with a blank expression.  
  
“Think… think they’ll let us go this time?” asked Cloud, coughing blood onto other-Sephiroth’s chest. He began to sink to the dry ground, his enemy following and making the fall less painful.  
  
“I don’t think so, either,” said Cloud after a few beats of silence, answering his own question. “Still…” he separated a short blade from his rusting First Tsurugi and shoved it into the other-Sephiroth’s chest. The lack of reaction told observing Sephiroth that he had seen it coming and simply didn’t care to defend himself.  
  
“Worth a try…” said Cloud, his body falling into the dirt. His arm went limp, leaving the short-sword stuck in shadow-Sephiroth’s torso.  
  
Carefully settling Cloud’s arms on his chest, shadow-Sephiroth pulled the short-sword out; the blade was covered in a tarry black blood instead of the normal red, causing the observing Sephiroth to raise a brow in curiosity. As he watched his shadow self, the puppet Sephiroth sat there on his knees, bleeding out silently until he slumped over in the dirt, dead.

Sephiroth, watching still from where he stood, folded his arms over his chest. “Interesting,” he breathed into the dry air, waiting for something to happen. Cloud had alluded to a nameless ‘They;’ he expected something to happen. The ground to break, a wind to blow, but nothing happened. Not right away.  
  
The clouds overhead began to darken before anything occurred. A light rain had fallen, dampening the bodies and the soil for a few minutes before returning to the same gray shade Sephiroth had been crossing since his arrival.

When the rain cleared, Cloud’s body began to move and he sat up in the dirt. He looked around, still not seeing the Sephiroth who stood there in observance. Instead, he checked on the corpse of his enemy, pushing shadow-Sephiroth onto his back. The black wound was sealed – not healed, precisely, but the blood had dried and closed the wound anyway.

“Damn it,” muttered Cloud, slapping the Sephiroth on the ground. A moment later, that Sephiroth’s eyes opened, staring up at the unremarkable clouds in the sky with the same disinterest he’d had during the fight. “No, we’re still not dead,” grunted Cloud, answering an unspoken question. “Get up, let’s try again.”  
  
Sephiroth watched the exchange between Cloud and his puppet-like other with a raised eyebrow.  
  
_“That’s right,”_ said a feminine voice. _“The Planet won’t let him die. Jenova won’t let you die. Not as long as you choose what she wants,”_ continued the voice.  
  
Sephiroth, the one who’d landed in this desert, turned away from the new battle beginning to the young woman behind him.

“You approach me. That’s new,” said Sephiroth, noting that Aerith no longer seemed afraid of his presence. “Is that the lesson? That I need to give up my mother’s goals or be damned to an eternal conflict?” he asked, a hint of boredom in his voice. “It seems that I do not care, either way.”

 _“That’s because you stopped feeling anything. Jenova took every bit away from you she could, so all that’s left is a fighting shell. A few things she couldn’t force away, such as your grudging respect for Cloud. But I suppose that never hindered your ability to fight. It just kept you from ever fighting dirty,”_ replied Aerith, her form seeming to radiate words without speaking.

“So, what is this illusion, then, if not a lesson?” asked Sephiroth, wanting to get on with this charade so he could return to the battle he’d been fighting.  
  
Aerith, or rather, the image of Aerith, smiled pleasantly at Sephiroth. _“It’s not an illusion, Sephiroth. This is a look at the future, what will happen, if you choose to keep fighting for someone else’s ends. You do have another choice, though. Another possibility.”_

“Well then, by all means, continue,” said Sephiroth, gesturing with his right hand to the girl.

Aerith continued to smile at him. A wind started to blow into the plane, cold and biting, carrying thick snow with it. In moments, the fight between Cloud and Sephiroth’s future self was swallowed up, still battling until the blizzard blocked out all other sounds and sights.

Sephiroth frowned at this turn of events, assuming that he was supposed to discover the next part on his own, just as he had the first. Where he’d last known the fighting to be, he walked forward from there, into the snowstorm. Winds bit at his face and bare chest, harsher than anything he was ever designed to withstand. He eventually found himself holding his coat closed against the bitter winds; snow piled up to his knees as he trudged further in whatever direction he was pointed.

In time, Sephiroth felt himself grow exhausted, dragging his legs through the deepening snow and fighting bitter winds harsher than any he’d ever endured. He felt heavy, covered in snow and his muscles cramped from constant movement with no heat for reprieve. Finally, he collapsed forward, the snow blanketing over him in seconds.

Waking this time, Sephiroth felt he was in a different place before he even opened his eyes. There was definitely a bed beneath him, thick blankets covering him up to his waist… and someone pressed along his side, creating a little pocket of heat next to him.

Sephiroth opened his eyes a little, picking up a wood grain pattern in the ceiling above him before he parsed that they were wood slats over his head. A woodstove was off in the corner of his vision, churning out a comfortable heat on its own. His gaze stayed above the bed; however, as he felt the person beside him begin to shift from sleep. He would have moved away, but said person was lying on his right arm, holding him down. Not that he couldn’t escape, no; Sephiroth was hesitant about discovering his bedmate’s identity. He felt the other press their face against his chest, loosening his arm from the elbow down. Sephiroth moved his hand up to the back of the other’s head. He discovered a short ponytail at the base of the person’s skull; further up, soft spikes of hair that brushed Sephiroth’s jaw as Cloud started to shift to consciousness beside him.

Cloud groaned softly, stretching and repositioning himself so he could reach Sephiroth’s clenched jaw, placing a drowsy kiss on a taut area of muscle.  
  
“Mornin’,” drawled Cloud, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Seph?”

Sephiroth laid there, breathing slowly, eyes trained on the ceiling. He didn’t respond to Cloud – how could he? What was this? For one of an enlightened race, Aerith had a strange sense of humor.

Before he could languish in undirected anger, Cloud moved up so he was in Sephiroth’s line of sight. What met him was a different Cloud than the one Sephiroth had left behind in Ajit, and a polar opposite to the one he’d witnessed in the desert.

Older still than the one Sephiroth had been fighting, this Future-Cloud had a soft gaze, warm and relaxed. His face had lost all that baby fat after however-many years it had been, matured and lined with gentle crow’s feet and smile lines at the corners of his mouth. They were just barely visible; a vast difference to the rage-created lines the Desert Cloud had carved into his face.

“Did you have a nightmare?” asked Cloud, reaching up to push aside Sephiroth’s bangs. He jumped as Sephiroth’s left hand came up to clutch at his wrist, stopping his tender caress.

“Don’t,” warned Sephiroth, breathing heavily. As Cloud pulled out of Sephiroth’s grip, his hand turned, and Sephiroth caught the glint of something on his hand – a gold band settled on his ring finger.

Staring at the ring, Cloud’s fingers laced in his own, interrupting his observation. Cloud wore an expression of worry and pulled Sephiroth’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles lightly.

“Is it another episode? It’s been a long time since you’ve had one,” said Cloud, his voice softened by concern. “I thought you might be over them, once and for all,” he continued, turning Sephiroth’s hand over and kissing his palm.

Sephiroth just watched, his brain faltering on him. Cloud and he were not only lovers, they seemed to be _married,_ and whatever bad blood between them gone in favor of this tender intimacy. It was a completely alien feeling, having someone care for him like this; he had never been so close with Genesis or Angeal, and certainly not Zack.

When Cloud’s gentle touches of his lips to just Sephiroth’s forearm became a little too much to deal with, Sephiroth pulled away, sitting up. He didn’t want to demand “what’s the meaning of this?!” like some fairy tale villain, but he got the feeling that Aerith wanted him to see this… whatever it was, as a positive.

“Why are we in bed?” was what Sephiroth asked instead, watching Cloud warily.

The sad, concerned look on Cloud’s face didn’t fit. Not aimed at _him,_ not when they’d been enemies. He certainly didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end.

“Well, we were tired from skiing yesterday, and after we got the kiddo to bed, we-mmph.” Cloud looked helplessly over Sephiroth’s hand that clapped over his mouth.

“’Kiddo?’” repeated Sephiroth, raising an eyebrow. Cloud nodded, and then pulled Sephiroth’s hand from his mouth with no resistance.

“Yes. Zackary Angeal Strife.” Cloud’s look of concern continued and he reached out to touch Sephiroth’s face. When Sephiroth dodged him, Cloud sighed and got out on his side of the bed. “Our little boy. Adopted six years ago, when he was three.” The way Cloud relayed information sounded as if he’d gone through this before, with one of those ‘episodes’ that he’d hinted at earlier. Cloud circled the room in a pair of navy blue sleep pants, seeking a change of clothes. “You just lay there and try to remember, okay?”

Before Sephiroth had finished processing the request, Cloud had left the warm cabin room, the door open to show him heading down a narrow hallway to a bathroom, only to emerge a couple minutes later and disappear into another door.  
  
Sephiroth sat up further in bed, looking around him. The cottage room was somewhat familiar in design, with carved eaves along the walls and frost on the windows. Struggling to remember where he’d seen that kind of architecture before, he got out of bed and went to the window, rubbing off some condensation to peer outside. As he should have expected, there was nothing outside the window, no marker or indication that people regularly hung out behind the cottage. Instead, he was treated to a familiar and foreboding view of Gaea’s Cliff.

 _Icicle Area,_ he realized. A moment later, his thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of tiny feet darting at him before a small weight attached itself to his leg. He had turned to intercept the invader but it was too late; short arms latched around his knee and gripped Sephiroth’s own sleep pants.

“Daddy! Papa says you’re not feelin’ well today?” said a small voice. Though it was younger, the tone and drawl were instantly familiar, calling up memories of a young SOLDIER apprentice with a heart too big for his body. Looking down at the boy, Sephiroth felt his stomach lurch in surprise.

Matching the tiny voice was an equally tiny (from Sephiroth’s perspective) Zack Fair. Wild black hair, shorter than when Fair wore it as a teenager, but still the same style, the one he kept before Angeal’s demise. Violet-blue eyes peered up at him from under dark bangs, bright and happy and adoring. Sephiroth felt that adoration was _horribly_ misdirected.

From the door, Cloud watched, arms folded over his chest. “Take it easy on him, Zack. You know you can’t startle Daddy when he’s not feeling well.”  
  
Zack turned and pouted at Cloud, one hand still clinging to Sephiroth’s pants. “I know, but… I was hopin’ I could hug him better.”

Cloud smiled at his son’s sweetness and crossed the room, effortlessly lifting the nine year old into his arms and holding him up higher for someone’s benefit, either Sephiroth’s or Zack’s. Zack reached out toward Sephiroth, silently asking to be passed over, but Sephiroth backed away as a spooked animal would, just out of the boy’s reach.

Sephiroth did _not_ enjoy that heartbroken look on the boy’s face, but he kept his distance anyway. Cloud gave him a considering look and settled Zack on the floor again, crouching so as to be on the same level.

“How about I get you breakfast? I think it’s going to be a long day for Daddy,” said Cloud, consoling the boy as best he could with a hand on his back.

Zack nodded at the request, muted by one father’s rejection. Somehow, Sephiroth felt guilt coil up in his stomach and sit there, seeing the boy hurt by his actions.

An “I’m sorry” slipped out of Sephiroth’s mouth as a quiet mutter before he was fully conscious of it.

Both Zack and Cloud looked up at Sephiroth; Zack nodded and hugged Sephiroth’s knee again before he let Cloud take him to the kitchen. Away in the rest of the cottage, Sephiroth could hear cereal being shaken out into a bowl and Cloud’s comforting murmurs to Zack.

“I think Daddy had another nightmare, Zack. A bad one. You know he loves you.”

There was a pause in conversation; Sephiroth could hear the blood rushing in his ears with the silence that followed.

“Yeah, I know. I love him too.”

Cloud sounded relieved when he responded. “Good. So do I. Now eat up and we’ll get you dressed to go outside later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Sephiroth had seated himself on the bed again by the time Cloud returned, having heard everything; he assumed he was meant to, as Cloud had not closed the door behind him.

That feeling that had lodged itself in his stomach had decided to crawl up into Sephiroth’s heart and hang there, filling him with too many emotions at once, emotions he thought he’d dumped in the Lifestream a decade ago. Or farther, considering the time line he had been sent to.

When Cloud came back, still using the doorway as a measure of safe distance, he watched Sephiroth and Sephiroth watched him right back. Cloud’s posture was mostly relaxed, as one who had to tread lightly in such situations.

“Wanna talk about it?” asked Cloud. Sephiroth snorted at the irony.

“I seem to recall neither of us being very good at talking, Cloud,” was Sephiroth’s reply, which earned him a frown. “Why would that change?”

Cloud continued to stare at him, then entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “Because we’ve changed. Because we’re not enemies anymore. Because I love you.”

Sephiroth shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t believe me. I’m used to it,” Cloud replied with a shrug. “You always apologize to me. If you hadn’t apologized to Zack, however, you’d be sleeping on the roof.”

Sephiroth stood up from the bed, getting nowhere with this talk. “I’m not your Sephiroth, Cloud. Whoever you went to bed with isn’t the man you woke up with.”

Cloud raised his brows a little and put his hands on his hips. “Is that so?” He took a few steps forward, putting himself chest to chest with Sephiroth. While still shorter than him, Sephiroth noted that Cloud was a bit taller than he remembered, or perhaps his confidence now made him stand up straighter.

“It’s so. I don’t remember ever even _liking_ you, Strife,” started Sephiroth, which prompted a bubble of laughter from Cloud. The menace Sephiroth hoped to build up with a heated argument fizzled when Cloud laughed in his face. “What’s so funny?”

“Your last name is Strife, too. You took it when we married.” Cloud’s unhappy expression had lightened slightly. It turned to a full smile when Sephiroth grimaced like he smelled something unpleasant.

“ _Sephiroth Strife?_ What awful alliteration,” was the first thing Sephiroth replied with, and Cloud dissolved into laughter, his head falling against Sephiroth’s chest in an affectionate nuzzle.

“Don’t laugh,” groused Sephiroth, as he felt that his argument was going to be one-sided, derailed every time he opened his mouth. Whatever Cloud and his… _other_ Sephiroth had together was strong enough to withstand petty fights. Sephiroth glanced over Cloud’s head in search of his weapon. _Actions are better,_ he thought.  He found himself disappointed. The most lethal thing in the bedroom was the pot-bellied stove in the corner, and it would have taken him considerable effort to remove it.

Cloud looked up at him with that misplaced affection that made Sephiroth feel queasy. “I know, I shouldn’t laugh when you get like this, but you have an adorable grumpy face.” The smile he graced Sephiroth with was just _off._ Sephiroth saw no reason why Cloud would look at him like that.

“Get like what?” asked Sephiroth, irritation blooming. He may not have had Masamune at his disposal, but he could still choke that look off of Cloud’s face if he so wished. The only reason he held back was that he wasn’t the one in control. Planet only knew what Aerith would throw at him next if he killed Cloud off suddenly.

The idea of the Lifestream finally tearing him apart and dissolving him completely floated through his mind; _No,_ he’d play at this game until She gave up or this Cloud pushed him over the edge.

Sephiroth could be patient.

Cloud was replying to him while he’d gone off in thought, leaving Sephiroth to just catch “dissociative episode” coming from Cloud’s mouth.

“A what?”

“Ever since you and I stopped fighting, you sometimes have these episodes where you don’t know where you are, who Zack and I are, or worse, you get…” Cloud frowned again and reached up to lay a hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder. “…accusative. You told me once, that I ruined you.”

 _It seems a fair argument,_ thought Sephiroth, but held his tongue to avoid Cloud giving him the silent treatment. He needed information from this Cloud. “Ruined me?” he echoed, his arms folded over his chest in defense of himself.

Cloud took a deep breath. “Because I was nobody. A boy from a backwater mountain town who couldn’t even pass his SOLDIER exams, taking out the most powerful man on the Planet. I guess it’s still a huge blow to your ego,” he explained. Cloud began to draw back from Sephiroth, and gave himself an arm’s length of space. “It hurts, being reminded of what you think- _thought_ of me.” Cloud wiped at one eye, the sting still there. “I know you don’t anymore, and I know when you have these episodes, it’s not really _you_ talking…” He left it hanging there.

Sephiroth filled in the gaps on his own and drew a deep breath to extend his patience. He could still wound Cloud with words, that much had become obvious, but this conversation had yet to lead him to a solution. Instead, he tried another avenue.

“What made you… give me a chance?” ventured Sephiroth. It was open-ended enough to get Cloud talking. At least that was his aim. To attempt to prove his sincerity, Sephiroth reached out and touched Cloud’s shoulder; perhaps the most delicately he’d ever handled another person.

It seemed to work. Cloud looked back at him with renewed hope in his eyes and took Sephiroth’s hand off his shoulder to instead clasp it.

“How about you get dressed and we go have breakfast?” was what Cloud said instead. He turned Sephiroth’s hand palm-up and traced the lines with his index finger, very lightly. Sephiroth felt an involuntary shiver pass through him. Cloud offered him a small smile and pulled his hand up, to place a kiss on his palm. “See you in the living room,” murmured Cloud as he let Sephiroth go. He then left, shutting the door behind him again.

Sephiroth was left staring at the door, his hand suspended where Cloud had let go. His mind was trying to focus on what had happened. Cloud certainly had become familiar with Sephiroth’s body, even in ways Sephiroth didn’t think were possible. The light touch had left Sephiroth’s palm tingling and he discovered that he wanted _more_.

It didn’t make any sense at all, being so affected by a slight touch. Or maybe the way Cloud’s voice had dropped in a way that promised far more than touching. Sephiroth blinked and rubbed his hand on his sleep pants. There was no logic whatsoever to the way he felt, that he suddenly craved contact.

Instead of dwelling on it for longer than he was comfortable with, Sephiroth put his mind on a task: getting dressed. Simple, effective, boring. It didn’t require much concentration, but Sephiroth took his time in inspecting what were obviously _his_ clothes; while nothing was overly fancy nor slovenly casual, at least the Sephiroth-he-had-replaced seemed to have modest taste.

As he crossed the room to lay out his choices on the bed, a simple gray turtleneck and dark blue jeans, Sephiroth caught a glimpse of his stolen body in a full-length mirror and nearly dropped the clothes when he did.

His hair was shorter – not _short_ , but stopped at his lower back instead of reaching to his knees, his front bangs grown out to accompany the rest of it behind him. He had never really taken stock of his looks in a life that was long abandoned, but now it gave him pause. His muscles still stood out, but unlike that desert-puppet version of himself, there was a slight softness. Domestic life must have been making him lazy, he reasoned as he approached the mirror for a better look. He took a long at his borrowed face – for the most part, it was the same. Same acid-green eyes with reptilian slits for pupils, same nose; His skin looked healthier, there was more pink in his tone than the frigid white he thought he had. The pale dusting of freckles he had pointedly ignored for ages were a bit deeper now, more obvious, as were a smattering of age lines that startled him.

Sephiroth had never considered getting older. Being a weapon, designed to kill, destined to die young, it had never really occurred to him. He leaned in close enough to fog the glass with his breathing as he studied the areas around his eyes. Having smiled so little in his youth, the crow’s feet on his own face weren’t as deep as Cloud’s were, but the small crinkles still there. Sephiroth’s hands came up to grip the edges of the mirror, a soft whine of creaking glass following seconds later.

“Seph? You okay?” Cloud’s voice floated through the door, concerned over how long he was taking to simply get dressed. It snapped Sephiroth out of his fugue and he pushed away from the mirror hard enough to slide it deeper into its corner.

“I’m fine,” said Sephiroth. A dry croak in his throat reminded him that _no, he really wasn’t,_ which went unheeded. He had bigger things to get onto than his age. _It doesn’t matter. I was not designed for this life. I’m a weapon,_ insisted Sephiroth, even though a shadow of doubt began to chip at his resolve.

 _You could die peacefully, loved. Be mourned as a husband rather than celebrated as a slain monster,_ said an unhelpful little voice as Sephiroth pulled the turtleneck over his head. He slowed down when he realized that the voice in his head was his own.

“No, I can’t,” he breathed, determined to fight with himself if he had to.

Sephiroth pulled the bedroom door open, startling Cloud who waited on the other side of it. He looked down at the shorter man with a scowl; Cloud at least had the decency to look abashed for his lingering.

“You were taking a while,” offered Cloud, a crooked smile and a furrowed brow. “I was worried.”

“Clearly,” replied Sephiroth in mild irritation. “I don’t need a babysitter,” he added, breezing past Cloud down the hallway. He could hear Cloud murmur “I know” to himself, the words followed by a heavy sigh.

It wasn’t until he got to the end of the hallway that Sephiroth realized he had marched off in a huff into a house he didn’t know the layout of. A turn to his right gave him an open living room, with a kitchen partially walled off to the side. It was large for a cottage, small for a house. _Cozy,_ his brain prompted as he stepped into the living room. A small television was on with some holiday-themed animation playing; Zack was sitting at one end and looked up when he heard Sephiroth’s heavier footsteps.

“Hi, Daddy,” he said quietly. A small smile was offered to Sephiroth before the boy turned his attention to the TV again. “Wanna sit with me?” he asked a moment later, when a commercial for some sort of toy came on.

Sephiroth hesitated. Up close and without the early confusion in the bedroom, he could study Zack better. Obviously a child, the resemblance was unmistakable. This boy would grow up looking just like Fair, and it unnerved Sephiroth. _This has to be the Planet’s doing,_ he considered as he slowly made his way around the couch to sit opposite of Zack. For all of ten seconds.

As soon as he was seated, Zack eagerly crawled across the couch and deposited himself into Sephiroth’s lap with a grin. “Hi.”

Sephiroth swallowed. “Hello,” he answered quietly. His right hand came up and touched the familiar spikes of black, something he’d never consciously done with Fair. This Zack smiled and nuzzled into his father’s hand like… _like a puppy._

“Don’t pet him too much or you’ll make him bald,” said Cloud as he leaned over the back of the couch and into Sephiroth’s space.

Sephiroth dropped his hand to his sides. “I barely touched him,” he snipped back, his nose wrinkled with displeasure. “He sat on me.”

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” said Cloud. He then leaned a little further over to sneak a light peck on Sephiroth’s high cheek bone. “I’ll make you something to eat,” he murmured. Cloud’s breath tickled the shell of Sephiroth’s ear; Sephiroth in turn, twisted away, disturbed by another shiver that ran through him.

Zack giggled at his fathers and rearranged himself so his back was up against Sephiroth’s chest to resume watching his program. Sephiroth followed absolutely none of it. Two brightly colored characters seemed determined to befriend a third, a considerably malcontented squid, who wanted nothing to do with the other two. Sephiroth was sure he felt his brain dissolving, but he was reluctant to dump the child to the floor and escape.

His rescue, then, had come at the hands of Cloud. Cloud swept around the couch and scooped Zack off of Sephiroth’s lap. Zack squealed in delight and threw his arms around Cloud’s neck to hang there like a baby monkey.

“Your breakfast is all ready,” said Cloud as his arms cradled Zack to his side. “I’ll join you in a minute. I just have to take care of him,” he added. This time he threw Zack onto the couch and tackled the boy. Cloud pulled up Zack’s shirt and blew raspberries into his stomach. More happy peals of laughter erupted out of Zack, followed by a furious squirming to break free.

Sephiroth watched Cloud and his son play for a moment, until he felt a hitch in his throat. Instead of staying to join in, he got up and left the living room, into the kitchen, and sat at the table. There waited a protein-laden meal of eggs, sausage and toast with a cup of hot black tea. A similar plate sat at the seat to Sephiroth’s right; Cloud joined him moments later. There was a smile on Cloud’s face again. Sephiroth looked away from him to focus on his breakfast as he began to eat.

“Thanks for waiting,” murmured Cloud. His hand slipped across the table’s top to close over Sephiroth’s right hand. Sephiroth paused and looked at Cloud’s hand in question, but that only made Cloud squeeze his hand harder instead of the draw back Sephiroth expected.

A thousand questions flooded Sephiroth’s brain and fought for attention, but the one he asked instantly made him feel stupid as soon as he asked it. “Why did Zack get cereal?”

Cloud chuckled and cut a piece of sausage with his fork, one-handedly going about his breakfast. “Because you keep _buying it_. You’re a pushover, sweetie.” He winked as he chewed his bit of sausage and continued, “So am I, because I keep feeding it to him.”

Sephiroth frowned slightly at Cloud’s term of endearment, concerned that somewhere along the line, the other Sephiroth whose life he borrowed had started to spoil his… son. _Why?_ he asked himself, as he drew silent for a few more minutes as he ate. He chose to let Cloud have his hand. At the very least, the contact gave him a focal point.

Cloud seemed pleased with the quiet while he ate his own share; he periodically squeezed Sephiroth’s hand as they sat there, just in one another’s company. When they were both done, that was when Cloud got up and took away the empty plates and silverware, setting them all in a dishwasher and letting it run.

Sephiroth just sat there, dumb to what he _should_ be doing, what his domesticated doppelganger would typically be up to in the morning. He watched Cloud passively, his gaze followed until Cloud stepped behind him and slid his arms around Sephiroth’s neck.

The thought of being choked from behind did flit across Sephiroth’s mind until he felt no tension, just a loose-limbed embrace and the tip of Cloud’s nose against the back of his head. Sephiroth moved his hands up to Cloud’s wrists, intent on prying them away when Cloud moved and pressed his cheek against Sephiroth’s.

“Will you get Zack dressed? I want to wrap the presents while you have him distracted,” murmured Cloud. His warm breath tickled Sephiroth’s ear and earned Cloud a nod. He shivered once more. “Take him outside to play. You promised to help him build a snowman.”

Sephiroth made a mental note to check his body’s reactions to such stimulus later. However, Cloud had just presented him with an opportunity. “Of course,” he answered, prepared to say more but he found his words failed him; as soon as he had agreed, Cloud had moved in closer and planted a kiss on his lips.

Sephiroth felt his breath falter and his heart speed up. Zack, Zack Fair, that was, had kissed him once while extremely intoxicated and he had needed to give his affections to _someone_. But that sloppy momentary lapse in judgment from Fair had nothing on the kiss Cloud gave him.

When Cloud pulled away, Sephiroth sat there and stared after him, stunned. Only after Cloud chuckled at his shocked expression made him realize his mouth had hung slightly open.

“What’s with that face?” asked Cloud. “Even during your other episodes, you’ve never been surprised after a kiss.” A smile, too affectionate for Sephiroth to be comfortable with, blossomed on his face, full of love Sephiroth was certain he hadn’t earned.

Instead, he looked away, his eyes on a drawing that read “Zack Strife, Age 9” on the fridge. The squirmy-looking mass of yellow with two blue dots on the relative face was either Cloud or a Chocobo.

“That’s because we haven’t,” muttered Sephiroth. A lump formed in his throat. If he wasn’t being shown something, then he must have stolen another man’s life. Someone who happened to look a lot like him.

Cloud sighed quietly and reached out, coming his fingers through the hair that hid Sephiroth’s face. It took away his only shelter, so Sephiroth glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “What?” hissed Sephiroth, aware that his face was red, but not from embarrassment. The burning at his eyes was familiar, but also unwelcome. _I should be in better control_ , he thought as he waited for Cloud to respond.

“I can never pretend to know what happens in your nightmares, Seph,” said Cloud. He leaned over and pulled Sephiroth’s attention away from the side of the kitchen so they looked one another in the eyes. “But I’m here when you’re awake. Zack and I aren’t going anywhere. I love you.”

Even though he felt like snapping Cloud’s wrists for touching his face, a vocal, lonely part of Sephiroth cried out at the contact. “I can’t… I don’t…” Sephiroth tightened his jaw and diverted his gaze slightly. Instead of right in the eyes, Sephiroth studied the rest of Cloud’s face: the slope of his nose, the soft pink of his lips and the line they formed in worry.

“You don’t have to say it back.” Sephiroth watched Cloud’s lips form the words as he heard them. “You’re here, with us. That says plenty,” finished Cloud. He tipped his face up and kissed Sephiroth’s forehead, then left him seated there to move onto his own household chores.

Sephiroth got up from his seat after a moment of contemplation. Cloud loved… a man with his name. Not him. He moved to the small living room, where Zack was no longer involved with the brain-melting cartoons on TV, but he had moved onto playing with a stuffed Chocobo. Said Chocobo seemed to be… exploding, if the sounds Zack made were an indication.

Sephiroth watched the boy play until Zack noticed him and sat up like a puppy that caught wind of a treat. “You have to get dressed if you want me to take you outside,” said Sephiroth. He was proud of himself for his voice not failing him since the moments prior in the kitchen.

Zack squeaked in excitement and ran past Sephiroth, his stuffed Chocobo tucked under his arm. “C’mon, Daddy!” shrieked the little boy as he headed into his room.

Sephiroth followed as commanded. He leaned in the doorway and watched Zack push a stepstool across his room to his closet, where he pulled down a coat and a pair of snow pants in navy blue. Once he had thrown them to the floor, Zack crouched beside the stool and fished around the closet, a pair of boots being tossed out after, one at a time.

Once he had everything out, Zack bounced up and down on the balls of his feet and grinned. “We’re gonna make a snowman, gonna make a snowman!” he sang, not getting dressed at all.

Sephiroth pushed himself away from the door and got down on his knees in front of the boy. “You’re not going out in your pajamas.” Zack stopped bouncing and flung his arms around Sephiroth’s neck and gave him a quick squeeze. “What was that for?”

Zack grinned brightly at Sephiroth. “For bein’ awesome,” replied the boy. “Coz you are.”

Sephiroth smirked at the boy’s open affection, reminded again how much he was like Fair. He saw taking care of the boy alone as an opportunity. “Zack, what do you know of where you came from?” he asked, the question open-ended enough, he thought.

Zack stopped bouncing and pondered. “I was ‘dopted in Edge when I was three. Denzel brought me to you an’ Papa,” he said, a smile back on his face.

Sephiroth took a deep breath. “I see. What about… before that? Do you remember where you were? How you got to Edge?”

“Nope! I was a baby. I jus’ ‘member being found in a alley, an’ Papa givin’ me a bath.” Zack rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He swung his arms back and forth, his eyes on Sephiroth. “An’ Papa cried an’ hugged me lots.”

Sephiroth pressed his lips into a frown. Of course he wouldn’t remember birth. Not even Sephiroth’s mind was _that_ good. “Were I and Cloud… together, then?”

“Like married?”

“Yes, Zack. Like married,” repeated Sephiroth. He rubbed his palms on his thighs to maintain a level of patience. The idea of being _around_ children was an alien concept to him, though he’d been in their presence a few times. Usually accompanied by their own parents. This time, he was the parent, and he realized that he had never learned to talk to a child.

Zack giggled. “Well, you weren’t married yet ‘coz I got to be ring-bear at the cer-mony. But you were kissin’ lots.”

Sephiroth’s face warmed considerably; sometime between his other-self’s end to conflict with Cloud and present, they had fallen in love. That fact made him feel uneasy again. He was perfectly aware that he had the capacity to love, if his meltdown over the loss of friends had been any indication. And he could not deny that it had been something he wanted for himself. Watching Angeal or Genesis change demeanor whenever the other entered the room was something he had wanted, even when he denied he could ever have it. He was so distracted, he missed correcting Zack’s grammar.

Somewhere along the way, Cloud had proven him wrong. Now Sephiroth needed to know how and when, but he had no idea what he’d do with that information if he got it. He didn’t even know what he was doing in the moment, nor what Aerith wanted him to do, for that matter.

Zack interrupted his thoughts by pushing on his chest and shaking him. “Daddy? You okay? You havin’ a ep-epsisode?” he asked.

“The word is ‘episode,’ Zack. And yes, I’m… fine. Just a lot on my mind,” said Sephiroth.

“Coz Midwinter Night’s comin?”

“What is that?”

Zack frowned now. “It’s …a night when everybody has a family party an’ gives gifts an’ tells people they love’em an’ stuff. Papa said you never celebrated when you were little, so we do it every year now,” explained Zack. “You hid Papa’s gift in here,” whispered Zack, cupping his hands around his mouth. “It’s under my bed.”

Sephiroth stretched to find the hidden present, to see perhaps if it held any clues, but his other-self had already wrapped it in solid green paper, a silver bow perched on the top. He sat back on his heels, frustrated and not any further with his inquisition than before.

He felt a tug on his elbow. “Daddy? You gonna help me get dressed? I wanna go outside now,” asked Zack.

“Yes, of course.”

 

Twenty minutes and much struggling later, Sephiroth was bundled up in his own coat and gloves, Zack’s hand clutched in his own. Outside of the cabin, Sephiroth could see other cottages like the one he stayed in, and other kids played out on the snowy pathways. A little girl waved to Zack, and he waved back with his free hand.

Zack grinned and pulled at Sephiroth’s arm, his body at a forty-five degree angle to the ground as he struggled to pull his much larger father down the lane to an open area where some kids dragged sleds up a hillside. Some others were engaged in snowy combat, complete with forts and shouts to take the other side down. Those kids were much too old to play with Zack, and the boy seemed to mentally agree.

Still in his need to tug at Sephiroth’s arm, Zack pulled him over to where other children his age were at work. They piled up snow into vaguely round or conical shapes and stuck branches into the sides and tucked old hats onto the smallest bit.

Sephiroth had been given a bag by Cloud before they left the cottage, filled with what Cloud insisted were supplies. By the time Zack had pulled him over to the other children, he understood – Cloud _had_ told him they were to make one of these snowmen.

Zack let go of Sephiroth’s hand as soon as he found a good spot and started to roll a ball of his own. He scooped and patted snow into a round shape under Sephiroth’s watch until a small noise behind them caught Sephiroth’s attention. It was a faint sound, the sound of footsteps, then a small rush of air.

Sephiroth spun and caught the snowball in his palm. The snow exploded against his leather glove with a solid smack and fell apart in his grip. Turned fully, Sephiroth caught a glimpse of several young men as they beat a hasty retreat, all but one.

A boy with reddish brown hair and heavy freckles across his nose stared in shock. He seemed to recognize Sephiroth and came out from behind his tree with his hands up, as if a common criminal.

“Dude, I’m so sorry Mr. Strife! I didn’t realize it was you and Zack! We just wanted to spook those kids! I’m really sorry!” he said, words sputtered out as he knew Sephiroth was someone to not cross with, even if it was just a snowball.

“Denzel, stop bein’ dumb! I’m gonna tell Aunt Tifa on you!” said Zack from behind Sephiroth now. “You’re not s’posed ta be with those guys!”

Sephiroth brushed his hands off and approached Denzel slowly. He recognized the eyes, regardless of the young man’s age. Kadaj had baptized him as one of Jenova’s stolen children years ago, but the young man before him didn’t seem as terrified as he should be.

“Denzel,” began Sephiroth. “If you help Zack and me with his snow man, I believe all can be forgiven. That is, if your ego can handle being around little children.”

Denzel balked; the other little kids giggled and pointed, and Sephiroth could hear a couple of the other parents murmur impressed praise behind his back. “I’m waiting.”

Denzel sighed and nodded. He trudged over to where Zack sat and started to build his own pile of snow. Zack leaned near Denzel and whispered something to him – Sephiroth could pick out Zack’s butchering of the word “episode” again. Even Denzel seemed familiar with Sephiroth’s dissociative phases; he just nodded and focused on his work with Zack.

After they had formed two of the snowballs, Zack looked up to Sephiroth from his seat in the snow. “Daddy, can you make the butt?”

Sephiroth raised a brow at Zack’s use of phrase, as the question brought him out of his thoughts again. He still processed the events from that morning in his search for a hint. But he came up short. And with Zack around other children, posing anymore questions had become impossible.

“How do I make… the butt?” asked Sephiroth. Zack and Denzel had a laugh to with each other, and then started to show him how to roll a ball of snow. After Denzel got it to the size he could handle, he turned the rolling over to Sephiroth. Another fifteen minutes produced a fairly large third ball of snow, which Sephiroth picked up and placed beside Zack.

“That’s a big butt!” exclaimed Zack. He smiled up at Sephiroth, and Sephiroth felt himself smile back. It took very little to please his – to please Zack. Denzel stacked his ball onto the one Sephiroth had made, then Sephiroth lifted Zack and the head of the snowman so Zack could place it on top.

As he held Zack up, an impulse came over Sephiroth. He leaned in and kissed the boy on the cheek. Zack squirmed in his hands and Sephiroth thought he’d crossed a line, when Zack giggled at him: “Turn me ‘round! I wanna kiss you too!”

As he turned the boy around and earned his kiss in return, he heard some of the other adults (and Denzel) group together and croon “Awww!” at the same time. Zack seemed embarrassed and hugged Sephiroth’s neck, but giggled one more time.

Rarely did Sephiroth ever find Zack’s laughter (even as an adult) to be so infectious, but he caught the bug and started to laugh as well. A quiet, dry laugh that he thought he’d forgotten, but Zack drew it out of him.

“Okay, okay! Put me down! We gotta decorate it!” squealed Zack, though he still smiled to his father. “Don’ wanna leave a naked snowman!”

As they decorated, other children nearby either showed off to their own parents or left entirely. Sephiroth, Zack and Denzel remained as Zack kept finding creative new things to add to the snowman, such as pine needles for hair and a particularly round rock that Zack declared to be the snowman’s belly button. Sephiroth stopped none of this. He had never built a snowman in his life and Zack had been enjoying himself.

When he did stop, Zack tugged on Sephiroth’s finger. “We need to show Papa!” he declared. “Bye, Denzel! See you later!” he said as he dragged Sephiroth back in the direction of the cabin.

Before he could push the door open, however, Sephiroth remembered that Cloud had mentioned keeping Zack occupied, so he picked the boy up before he could get a grip on the doorknob. Zack merely laughed at being swept off his feet and hung onto Sephiroth’s side.

It should have bothered him, how easily the boy trusted and loved Sephiroth, but it didn’t. Zack fit against his side like he belonged there, and Sephiroth adjusted his grip like he’d actually raised the boy himself.

Sephiroth knocked on the front door as a warning; Zack chirped “Special Delivery!” just loud enough to make Sephiroth wince. From inside, Cloud could be heard scrambling to cover or hide his work. A moment later, Cloud appeared at the door, giving the two a once-over look.

“Special delivery, hmm? Well, at least it’s a cute little bundle,” said Cloud. “And the delivery man certainly is handsome. I’ll let you both in if you don’t tell my husband or son,” he teased.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and unloaded Zack into Cloud’s arms. “He built you a snowman,” he said. He tried to push past Cloud but the smaller man was still strong enough to delay his entrance. Cloud grabbed Sephiroth’s leather jacket by the lapels and pulled him down for a kiss. Once again, Sephiroth found himself surprised, but better able to recover from a short peck as Cloud headed off with Zack to get him out of his cold, wet clothing.

While Cloud was away, Sephiroth entered into the living room, arms folded behind his back. He felt like a stranger it what was supposed to be his own house, but he had yet to feel any attachment to it. There were a couple of photos framed on one wall, each taken at various times, as not all of the photos included Zack, and those that did featured the boy at different ages.

He stopped at one photo in particular, one of his other self, Cloud and a much smaller Zack propped up on Cloud's knee. He and Cloud wore suits and Zack was dressed like a little sailor in the picture – it was a professional family photo.

“I never really liked that one,” said Cloud from right behind Sephiroth. One arm slid around Sephiroth's waist as Cloud moved to stand beside him. “But Tifa booked the studio and it was just before our wedding...” he muttered.

“I never liked professional photographers,” replied Sephiroth, his arms folded over his chest. “They demand you look like a model, but also 'natural.' There is no in between.”

Cloud chuckled. “This from the guy who rolls out of bed looking gorgeous,” he said with a smile. “Not that I'm complaining.”

Sephiroth frowned as his face heated up at the compliment. “There isn't anything natural about me, either,” he said. He pulled away from Cloud's grip, only to find that Cloud had snagged him by his waistband.

“Hey, you don't get to do that.”

Sephiroth turned just enough to look at Cloud's hand, then up his arm to Cloud directly. “I'm allowed to think of myself in any way I wish,” he said. The way Cloud looked at Sephiroth, disappointed and annoyed, was just another conundrum he had to pick apart.

“Not like that. You might have been born in a lab, but you're not the face of Shinra anymore. You're not the General, the Silver Demon... hell, you're not even the same Sephiroth. You're human.”

Sephiroth grabbed Cloud's wrist and pulled it off of his waist. “I'm not. At least not _your_ Sephiroth.” He doubted Cloud would believe him, but the hurt look on his face was unexpected. “I'm not the same man you went to bed with. I don't recall being married, or adopting Zack, or... or any of this.” He gestured to the wall of photos. “The man in them is not me. He only looks the part... but happier.”

Cloud frowned again and shook his head. “You might not remember it, but this, all of this happened,” he replied. He took down a particular picture, one that Sephiroth had seen but tried to ignore it. The scene was far too intimate and the idea of it had made him feel ill, because it couldn't have been him in that photo. “I don't want you to forget this,” said Cloud as he held out the photo to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth took the framed photo and looked at it. A long sigh drew out of him as he looked at the picture. Unlike the professional portrait, this was caught in the moment from someone's personal camera: Cloud and Sephiroth, both dressed in white shirts with the sleeves rolled up and satin vests – Cloud's was a light green while Sephiroth wore one in a striking (and familiar) shade of blue. Cloud had his arms up around Sephiroth's neck and Sephiroth leaned down until his nose was tip-to-tip with Cloud's.

“This is from our wedding reception,” said Cloud, his voice just above a whisper. A pained laugh followed. “I remember you practicing for weeks to try to learn how to dance and it just never stuck. So we just stayed close to each other whenever we could. Not that I wanted to let you go,” added Cloud. He rubbed at one eye with the palm of his hand.

“It can't be real,” replied Sephiroth, his own voice just as soft, struck with disbelief. “I don't...” He caught his own reflection in the glass of the frame and shoved the picture back at Cloud. “I can't believe it,” he said.

Cloud caught the photo and put it back on the wall with the others. “It's real. You even proposed to me on Midwinter's Night that year.”

Sephiroth had begun to back away from Cloud. He shook his head, unable to cope with the reality. The man in the photo with Cloud, who looked so much like him, couldn't have been the same. They had been enemies for so long, with such animosity between them that he couldn't believe his own eyes. Before he realized it, Sephiroth had backed into the couch and fell into the cushions. His breath came heavy and labored, and he stared into the middle distance.

Cloud was immediately beside him, one hand on his chest, the other reached around to rub at his back. But that only made him feel worse. Cloud wanted to comfort him; Sephiroth just wanted to run. This wasn't his life. He wasn't even sure this was his plane of existence. He had read reports, theories of worlds that were different, an infinite number of worlds based on the smallest differences in choice, gender, birthplace... The Ancient girl must have been showing him another world, not his own.

“I can't do this,” he muttered in between heaving breaths. Cloud looked at him with the utmost compassion.

“Yes you can. You've been through this before. It's not easy, remembering all at once, but you've gotten through it. And I've been here for you,” said Cloud, the reassurance in his voice just too sincere for Sephiroth to handle.

Instead of trying to argue that he wasn't the same man, Sephiroth put his face in his hands and leaned forward. He couldn't think straight, and this Cloud, this unacceptably kind and loving man who was there for him – it was too much.

“Cloud...” said Sephiroth after a moment as he caught his breath and fought to steady his nerves, sat up again. “I'm... sorry.”

Cloud blinked at Sephiroth and tilted his head. “Sorry for what?”

“Everything.”

Cloud sighed and leaned forward, a kiss planted on Sephiroth's cheek. Sephiroth turned toward Cloud's lips, having decided he no longer cared how needy it made him feel. He was damnably needy, and Cloud was willing to give.

“I think you need a quiet night,” said Cloud. He reached up and tucked some of Sephiroth's hair back behind his ear, then smoothed it down so it looked “right” against his head. “You sit here. I'm going to call Tifa and ask if she and Johnny wouldn't mind watching Zack for a night.”

Sephiroth's brows raised slightly. Tifa was still around, then, and still friends with Cloud. “Why didn't you marry her?” he asked. “She seems, _seemed_ , right for you.” _Better choice than the man who tried to kill you,_ he thought.

Cloud laughed at that and shook his head. “You might not recall this, but we didn't really become close until the Meteorfall events. But we did give it a shot. It just didn't stick. Making out with her was like kissing my sister, and I'm an only child,” laughed Cloud, that easy smile on his lips again.

“So, you were never really her knight in shining armor then?”

Cloud scoffed. “Do _not_ ask her that question. She might break your jaw. Again.”

The mention of his jaw being broken made Sephiroth reach up and rub at a phantom pain that wasn't even in his memories. “I... see.”

Cloud got up from the couch and went over to a phone that Sephiroth was certain had to be older than the house they were in. It had a _cord_ on it. A few minutes passed while Cloud spoke with Tifa, a little laughter, then a quiet murmur of concern over Sephiroth being relayed.

Sephiroth wished this reality didn't involve him being treated like some sort of unstable, over-sensitive basket case. Dissociative episodes shouldn't have been so frightening for them. He would pry after they were alone. Without Zack around, Cloud would have no excuse to hide their conversations.

Cloud came back to the couch and sat down beside Sephiroth. “Tifa said Denzel helped you guys with the snowman. You'll have to show me later,” he said softly. A hand went up to Sephiroth's head, Cloud's fingers being lightly raked through his hair.

Sephiroth leaned into Cloud’s hand for a moment before they were interrupted by the sound of Zack joining them, a little duffel bag with “Chocobo Racing: Junior League” silkscreened onto it. He smiled and climbed up onto the couch between them, dressed warm and ready to go outside again.

“You planned on this?” asked Sephiroth as he noticed the way Zack was dressed. Zack leaned onto his side and hugged his arm.

“I wanna stay over with Aunt Tifa. You an’ Papa need some you-guys time,” replied Zack. “You usually need it when you have a epsi-sode.”

“Episode, Zack,” corrected Cloud, but he stroked through his son’s hair. “It was his idea, really. He misses Denzel. They only really get to see each other during the holidays since we moved out of Edge. Apparently building a snow man wasn’t enough for our little guy.”

 _That_ made Sephiroth’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He has been under the impression that the cottage was their home. Humble surroundings seemed to be right up Cloud’s alley; that this was just a holiday spot added one more thing for Sephiroth to check into.

“Well, I’m certain Denzel is probably nursing a bruised ego right now,” said Sephiroth. Zack just giggled at that. Neither answered Cloud when he gave them a puzzled look, and he lost his opportunity to ask when another knock came at the front door.

Cloud left Zack and Sephiroth alone long enough to answer the door; Zack stood up on the couch and hugged Sephiroth’s neck. Sephiroth hugged the boy in return. It was one of hundreds he knew he’d owed Fair when the young First Class had tried to ease his pain but Sephiroth had refused him.

“You be good for Tifa,” said Sephiroth. He felt Zack nod against his neck before he let go to greet Tifa. Sephiroth stood when he heard her enter the living room – then he nearly fell back into his seat.

Tifa was very pregnant, escorted by Denzel, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed by his earlier actions. Tifa stepped up to Sephiroth, her hands on her hips as she looked up at him. Even at some seven or eight months pregnant, she appeared ready to kick his ass – and Sephiroth did not doubt that she would try.

“So, Cloud says you haven’t been feeling well?” she asked. Sephiroth just nodded, even as she grabbed his hand in both of hers. “Just remember – Cloud loves you,” she said. Sephiroth nodded, stunned quiet. Tifa was beautiful. She’d always been conventionally attractive, but there was something else. Similar to how Cloud had greeted him that morning, there was a pleasant softness in her eyes, warm and kind, even to him.

Tifa laughed quietly and turned to Cloud. “Has he been doing this all day?” she asked. “A girl could get used to those kinds of looks,” she added. “Don’t tell Johnny.”

Cloud laughed. When the sound had Sephiroth’s attention, he noticed a particular tightness to his lips that did not normally accompany his smile. “Well, he’s kind of in self-discovery mode again,” was all Cloud said. Tifa’s expression softened and she nodded.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I just don’t think I’ve ever had someone look at me with that kind of awe. Other than Johnny,” she amended. She turned to Sephiroth and gestured for him to lean closer. When he complied, she kissed his cheek. “You get better soon. Your family needs you.”

Sephiroth just nodded as she pulled away, his cheek tingled where she had kissed it. _His_ family. Not merely Cloud’s. He had been racking up the surprises, but still had no idea how his other-self had managed to achieve it.

Cloud made sure Zack was all bundled up with his coat and boots, and then saw Tifa, Denzel and Zack out with a promise to pick Zack up in the morning. When he returned to the living room, Sephiroth was seated on the couch again, left to his thoughts.

Cloud interrupted those thoughts by straddling Sephiroth’s lap. “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve had a night to ourselves. Hard to do when you’re a parent,” he said. The back of Cloud’s hand stroked Sephiroth’s cheek and got his attention.

“Being a parent is hard, isn’t it?” asked Sephiroth, his voice quiet. He met Cloud’s eyes, and Cloud didn’t flinch or look away. “Do you know where Zack came from?”

Cloud deflated at the question, but seemed determined to make the best of his questions. “He was brought back, given another chance to grow up and be happy. It’s what I wanted most for Zack Fair, and I think, deep down, you knew he deserved better, too. Even when you were… really ill.”

“Ill?” echoed Sephiroth. “Is that what you call it?”

Cloud took a deep breath and moved off of Sephiroth’s lap. “Well, JENOVA was officially classified as a virus about a year after you last returned.” He leaned against Sephiroth’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Sephiroth’s bicep, much like Zack had done. “You’re on record as the worst sufferer of the JENOVA virus. Rufus saw to that.”

Sephiroth stared at Cloud with an eyebrow raised and partially withdrawn from him in surprise. “Rufus _Shinra?_ Defending me?”

Cloud smirked a little. “Well, with Geostigma as a known disease, getting JENOVA classified as a virus that caused Geostigma was easy for people to swallow. Both caused mental and physical deterioration – people stopped being afraid of you.”

Sephiroth felt his lip curl into a sneer. “So they pity me. If they don’t think I’m just a ghost.”

Cloud took a deep breath and pulled back enough to give Sephiroth space. “Not pity, Sephiroth. It’s understanding. You weren’t well. Your mako enhancements made it hard to keep you quarantined while a cure was researched.”

Sephiroth glared at Cloud. “That’s the official story? That the whole time, I’ve been in a secret hospital? Any time I came back, it was me just breaking out because I was crazy?”

Cloud’s voice was quiet. He looked down at his hands. “That’s the official story. Like I said, it’s easier for people to empathize with something like disease of instead of being afraid that you might never die. It was the only way to keep you from seeming like a horror-movie monster.”

“Whose idea was this?” asked Sephiroth, his teeth clenched tight.

“Mine. To protect you. Us.”

Sephiroth looked away, toward the television that sat, blank in the corner of the living room. “What convinced you that I wasn’t a monster anymore?”

Cloud took a long breath and reached out for Sephiroth’s hand. When he pulled away, Cloud just exhaled as slowly as he could. “You told me you were tired of fighting.”

Sephiroth licked his lips. “When was this?”

“The last time we fought. Back in Ajit, right after you fell through the shell house. I went in to find you, and when I did… you were different. You were just sitting there, covered in dirt and debris.” Cloud sniffed. “I’ll never forget the look you gave me. The way you looked at me… and then you just said ‘I’m tired.’ You looked so lost, and…”

“Human,” murmured Sephiroth. He presumed that he’d guessed right when Cloud took his hand again. This time, he allowed for it and squeezed Cloud’s hand in return.

That was his answer. Somehow, from that moment he had plunged into the shell house, he’d become concussed. It was the only explanation for his other-self’s dissociative episodes… was there even another-self?

“Maybe… maybe I’ve been dreaming,” said Sephiroth. “Maybe it’s amnesia…”

Cloud sat a little closer again, pressed into Sephiroth’s side as a support. “It’s never been this bad before,” he said. “From what I’ve been able to look into myself, you do qualify for dissociative amnesia. You’ve been through more undeserved agony than most people on the Planet.” He sniffed again, his eyes watered. “But you always come back to me.”

Cloud’s mood, the combination of sadness over Sephiroth’s mental state but the cautious optimism that he could beat it made Sephiroth’s heart clench. Maybe he had fallen in love, he just couldn’t remember it. Another episode, a history of care and affection blocked by a web of traumatic events. He felt his body begin to tremble and before he was able to stop it, tears rolled down his face.

“Cloud, I’m… so sorry,” said Sephiroth. His voice was raspy and soft. “The last thing I remember is falling through that roof. Everything else is missing.”

Once again, Cloud climbed up into his lap and Sephiroth pulled him closer. Cloud kissed Sephiroth’s face gently and wiped away the tears. “But you’re still here. You stayed, and I think you know why. You just blocked it out right now.”

Sephiroth just nodded. He _was_ tired. Tired of fighting Cloud, tired of arguing with himself over what he deserved. He had a family, and they made concessions for when his mind blocked them out. They loved him. He was a father and a husband.

 _Now, that’s the spirit._ The voice from that morning was in his head again, but Sephiroth had no rebuttal. He was willing to let the voice talk more, but it had said its peace and left him.

Cloud sensed Sephiroth’s mental exhaustion and leaned forward to kiss his face. He worked his way to Sephiroth’s lips, and Sephiroth met him hungrily in the middle. He wanted more of that sensation from the morning, that magnetic draw to Cloud and the touch of someone who cared. He parted his lips and pulled Cloud tight against him, his back against the couch for support.

When Cloud pulled back for air, he smiled and pushed Sephiroth’s hair away from his face. He looked down on Sephiroth affectionately, his face pink and warm. “Feeling a little better?” he asked. Sephiroth nodded in reply.

“Well, let’s take it slow tonight. I’ll make us an early dinner, and we can go in our room…” Cloud kissed Sephiroth’s bottom lip – Sephiroth chased after for more when Cloud pulled back to continue. “Get undressed, take a hot bath and we’ll just see where it goes, all right?”

Sephiroth nodded again, his hold on Cloud still firm. “It sounds… good.”

Cloud kept true to his word. A filling meal of comfort food was prepared, and this time, Sephiroth initiated the hand-holding at the table. When they were done, Sephiroth helped with the cleanup, put things away and pinned Cloud to the fridge and stole a kiss.

He felt lighter, having admitted that he was tired of fighting. He had something here, with Cloud, with Zack, and he was determined to hang onto that feeling. Sephiroth would destroy anything that got in the way of this feeling.

After their bath, Cloud and Sephiroth fell onto their bed. The hot waters had relaxed Sephiroth, and Cloud naked against him made him eager to explore his husband’s fair skin. He was accepting it, the heady rush of euphoria at drawing pleased sounds out of Cloud, the freedom of letting Cloud throw him back and treat him with care and love.

Sephiroth fell asleep much like he had awoken earlier that day: Cloud tucked against him, his arms around Cloud, keeping him close as they huddled together. The last thought he’d had before he drifted off to sleep was: _This is good._

 

Sephiroth opened his eyes again, disoriented. He rubbed the heel of his palm into one eye, then jerked his hand away as he felt the familiar sensation of his Shinra-issued leather gloves. His eyes trailed up his arm, following the fitted sleeve of his coat and the heavy metal brace around each wrist.

“No…” he gasped. He stared at his hands in horror. “This is a nightmare,” he said to himself as he shut his eyes.

“No, Sephiroth, it’s not.”

He lifted his head and looked out in front of him. Instead of the warm cottage or a vast wasteland, there was an empty space, tinged with green. Out of the void walked a tall figure, lax in posture but still familiar in form. It was himself – no, it was the self he’d been when he had fallen asleep. The shorter hair and comfortable clothing instead of the infamous black coat; he _had_ borrowed another man’s life.

“What are you doing here?” asked Sephiroth, no attempt to hide the anger he felt rise within him.

The other, older Sephiroth smiled to his younger self calmly. “We’re dreaming. You’re in my body.”

“It’s that Cetra, isn’t it? Some sort of trick-“

Elder Sephiroth held up his left hand; the younger saw the glint of the gold wedding band and drew quiet. “It’s not a trick.” He moved in a wide arc around his younger self, aware of his damage range even standing still. “Consider it a gift, a vision. I know it’s not very scientific, as we’re not really a man of faith, but… I was willing to let you have a day of my life to show you what yours – _ours_ , could be.”

Younger Sephiroth glared after his double. His body trembled with anger at being ripped away from something the Elder _knew_ he wanted, something they had wanted in such secrecy, not even Hojo could have cut it out of him. “So was this an attempt to make sure that _I_ secure _your_ future? I’m not very fond of manipulation.”

The elder laughed quietly, then covered his mouth and coughed. “Not at all. Everything you’ve seen, Sephiroth, has been a glimpse of what your life could be, for better or worse, depending on the choices you make.” He had his right hand in his pocket, his stance casual and calm, nothing like how the younger felt. “You could make things even worse. That husk you saw – there’s nothing of us in that thing. You don’t want to be manipulated, but that’s what you chose – in another timeline. To let yourself die completely and be the true puppet of the JENOVA virus.”

The younger felt his heart drop. After what he had just experienced, he couldn’t let that get away from him. Not when it really was what he wanted. “I never expected Cloud.”

Sephiroth heard his elder-self chuckle in fond amusement. “We never did, did we? But there’s truth to what Cloud says – there isn’t a thing he doesn’t cherish. And you’re among them… kiddo.” Sephiroth-the-elder smiled warmly, those fine lines around his eyes and mouth deepened.

“We came up with ‘kiddo?’”

Now the elder really laughed. “Well, we picked it up from our friends. As you might have noticed, the others warm up to you. Slowly, but Cloud made it clear that if you weren’t accepted, they were out. Barrett swore a lot, Highwind a lot more, but they came around. Tifa might be the hardest, but she has the most reason to hate us.”

Younger Sephiroth took a deep breath. “How do I… convince him?” he asked. The sharpened gaze he knew he had given to others fixed on him; rarely would Sephiroth ever think of the term “spooky” in regards to himself, but it happened.

“You already know, Sephiroth. When you wake up, you’ll know what to say. Just… be patient. We’ve waited this long. You can make it a little longer,” said the elder.

“What do I have to do?” asked the younger Sephiroth. “Do I just… tell him?”

“If you tell him you’re in love right off the bat, he’ll think you’re still out of your mind. Sephiroth, you know the answer.” The elder approached his coat-wearing double and settled his hands on his pauldrons. “Don’t be afraid of it. And don’t hold onto your anger. It doesn’t do us any good.”

Younger Sephiroth nodded. “Thank you… for this.  Will my… knowing affect the outcome?”

The elder shrugged. It seemed like an alien gesture on his body, but natural at the same time. “I don’t have any memories of this dream, but change a thing in the past, alter the future. My life may vanish, but I won’t know it. I’ve accepted that things change.”

Younger Sephiroth snorted in derision. “I hope I learn acceptance soon.”

The elder smirked. “Sephiroth, you just learned to hope. I think you’ll be good.”

Sephiroth, the current one, turned to walk away when another question came to mind. “What did you get Cloud?”

“You mean his Midwinter gift?”

Sephiroth nodded, openly curious.

Future-Sephiroth closed his eyes and dipped his head. A smile graced his lips. “It’s a photo album.” He held his hands out and said book appeared in them. It was bound in black leather with a keyhole frame in the center. The image on the front was not that professionally shot photo that hung in the cottage living room. Instead, it was a much more casual photo, taken by someone else, but it was the three of them, Sephiroth, Cloud and a much tinier Zack piled together on a couch. Under it was, in an unfamiliar handwriting, the words “Family at Last!!” in permanent marker.

Sephiroth touched the cover of the album very gingerly, as if a slight press too hard would have turned it to ashes in his Other’s hand. He read album title quietly and felt a catch in his throat.

“It’s what we’ve always wanted. Not merely a mother, but just someone who loved and understood us. Someone who knew what it was like to be different, even if his own experiences were unlike our own,” said Other Sephiroth. He began to open the book when his younger self placed his hand on it and shook his head.

“No, I don’t want to know your memories. I’ve… learned too much already,” said Sephiroth, looking to the Other with a frown. “I don’t want to be stuck longing for something that may never happen. I will create my own.”  
  
The Other Sephiroth smiled at himself and withdrew the album. “If you want to start building, you’re going to need a foundation,” he said. Sephiroth looked at him with a brow raised.  
  
“Sephiroth, it’s time to reclaim your past. As much as it hurts,” said a familiar female voice behind the younger Sephiroth.

The Other stood back while his younger self turned to greet Aerith. “Is that it, then? The lesson I was supposed to learn? Did I win your little game?” he asked, unable to help the venom in his voice. If anyone should know he did not enjoy being manipulated, it would have been Aerith.  
  
“It was never a game, Sephiroth. It’s just a path you can choose. There are many paths from this point. I’ve only shown you two that are on the far extremes of what could be. Either a life of complete servitude, your body a puppet for Jenova, or a life of peace and joy, with a family that loves you.” Aerith held a blue apple in her hands – the shape stirred an old memory in Sephiroth, one he thought he had discarded into the Lifestream a decade ago.

Sephiroth stared at the apple she offered him, then looked the Ancient in the eye for a considerable time. “What about Zack? What’s his role in this?”

Aerith sighed and stretched her lips thin in an attempt to wear a smile on an exhausted face. “It’s complicated, but the short explanation is that Zack was important to both of you, no matter how much you tried to deny it. So, he got a second chance. Unlike a certain someone I could name, he was reborn, legitimately, by the Lifestream.”  
  
Sephiroth frowned again. That explanation hardly touched on a thing, but Zack was not the pressing matter – his decision was.

“I take this apple from you, and everything I knew in life… I’ll remember,” he stated as he studied the apple again. Sephiroth took a deep breath and snatched the apple out of Aerith’s hands before he weighed the consequences.

Suddenly, the ground he was standing on opened up under him and he felt himself falling again.

 

The ground under Sephiroth was filthy and coarse. Something sharp poked at his face where he laid; he drew lines in the dirt and bits of broken shell under him as he pulled his arms in and pushed himself into a seated position.

The disorientation faded quickly as his senses focused on a pair of boots that crunched over stone and rotten wood. His mind worked out the familiar pattern of movement just based on the sound alone. A moment later, a voice belonging to those footsteps called out in anger.

“Sephiroth! You’re not seriously hiding from me?” snarled Cloud.

 _Cloud…_ Sephiroth rubbed at his head and winced; everything came back to him at once, his mind flooded with memories of training, torture, loss, betrayal, grief, anger, and confusion. _The massive headache better be worth it,_ he thought to himself as he rubbed at one eye with the heel of his hand.

Footsteps stopped right in front of him now. Cold metal touched his jaw and lifted his head so his alien green gaze met furious blue. A momentary overlay of an older set of those same eyes, ones that gazed at him with love made Sephiroth flinch in pain again as his mind tried to reconcile the present with his vision of a _potential_ future.

“I’ve seen whole sections of buildings fall on your head and they never caught you off guard like this. Must be my birthday,” said Cloud, his voice congruent with the time and his justified rage. He turned his blade sideways, the angle of the tip pushing against Sephiroth’s throat and held before him like a guillotine. One quick push would have put Sephiroth’s head on the ground. “So, what’s it like, being on this end for a change?”

Sephiroth took the irony to heart – after all, he had put Cloud in a similar situation several times before. He thought it only fitting that the tables eventually turned on him. He sat very still and looked along the intricately-built weapon Cloud used to hold him still before he gave an answer, one he had recently learned from a Cloud of another reality.

“I’m tired,” he said quietly. First Tsurugi was pushed up under his chin with greater force now, his head tipped back and his neck scraped raw from the edge.

“What do you mean, ‘you’re tired?’ You don’t _get_ tired. We fight. You die. That’s the way it goes,” said Cloud.

It did not shock Sephiroth to see Cloud’s disbelief; it was hard for him to believe it himself, but there was also a sense of relief that came with having it said. “I mean, I’m tired of fighting,” he replied through grit teeth. The angle of Cloud’s sword made it difficult to talk.

Cloud’s arm loosened slightly and then tensed again, the sword thrust against a wall behind Sephiroth.

Much to both of their surprise, Sephiroth was still alive; First Tsurugi had been turned and punched into the wooden wall behind Sephiroth without taking his head. However, the sword still cut deep into his shoulder, with the blade passing through the small section between his collar and pauldron. The metal bit deep, right to the bone. It also happened to slice his _left_ shoulder. It didn’t take much for Sephiroth to believe Cloud wanted him incapacitated if he was going to be believed.

“Cloud?” ventured Sephiroth. He sat still otherwise as he waited. His shoulder burned with the blade still buried in his flesh.

Cloud breathed heavily and deliberately through his nose, his eyes closed in some sort of meditation. “I don’t trust you,” he said.

“I don’t expect-“

“Shut up. You’re going to listen.” Cloud’s eyes opened and focused on Sephiroth. Sephiroth just nodded. “I don’t trust you, Sephiroth. You destroyed my hometown. Killed people very dear to me. Manipulated me. If it wasn’t for you, Zack would still be alive,” he said. Cloud’s arm shook where he held it against Sephiroth; he could feel the tremors work their way into his collarbone and shoulder blade. With enough force, Cloud could easily take his arm instead and leave him to fight with his right. “I’ve been tired for a long time – why do _you_ suddenly get to be?” he asked. Sephiroth didn’t answer right away, so Cloud turned First Tsurugi.

Sephiroth grunted quietly as he felt the socket pop out with just the right amount of torsion from what had seemed like a small movement.

“You can talk now.”

Sephiroth held up his left arm with his right; Masamune lied in the dirt beside him, but his goal was to avoid using it if he could. “I’m sorry,” was all he could offer.

Sephiroth expected retaliation. Cloud surprised him and pulled First Tsurugi away; the blade dragged through his shoulder joint. The discomfort was nothing new to Sephiroth as he just ground his teeth together and waited for the blade to be out. He felt muscles tear at the slow drag of metal. _Very clever,_ he thought. Even with accelerated healing and an incredible tolerance for pain, it would be some time before he could wield Masamune again with the same precision he was known for.

“You’re sorry, alright,” said Cloud. He turned around and walked away from Sephiroth, out of the demolished shell building.

Sephiroth took a deep breath. Things were looking … _up_.


	2. Of Things That May Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point on, the chapters switch perspectives.

Cloud walked out of the shell house ahead of Sephiroth, his feet hitting hard enough that one could argue that he had stomped out like a three year old having a tantrum. He had every reason to be angry. Sephiroth was in that house behind him, still alive, but injured.

 _He’s tired…_ Cloud thought to himself with a shake of his head. “He’s tired,” he repeated aloud. “I’m fucking tired, too,” he grumbled to the ruins of Ajit. He looked over his shoulder. Sephiroth had yet to follow him out, which was all for the better. He did not want to look at the other man just then, not when he had too many questions of his own and if he saw Sephiroth again, he would have finished with his arm.

Instead, he walked away from the shell house entirely. It was foolish to turn his back on Sephiroth of all people, but he also could not be near him. _Sephiroth’s a big boy, he can walk himself out,_ he reasoned as he left the immediate vicinity and pulled out his phone.

Cloud stared at the device, his thumb over the selection of names. He should call Rufus, have Sephiroth locked up and away and maybe even executed, but Cloud doubted Rufus actually had the ability to contain Sephiroth anymore. Not without Hojo.

Cloud shoved that line of thought aside and chose Tifa’s number instead. He let it ring four times before he closed his phone and pressed it to his mouth. He wanted to scream, or throw the phone, but he did neither. Instead, he turned and walked back to the shell house.

Sephiroth had just gotten himself to the outside, having managed to stand on his own. His left sleeve, bloody and torn, hung loosely at his side, the arm folded and supported by the inside of his coat. He carried Masamune in his right hand, the swing of it slow and wide. He looked up when Cloud approached, but said nothing. Even better – Cloud didn’t want to hear him talk.

Cloud gave a look to his own weapon; The red on the blade was starting to dry on First Tsurugi and stain the metal. “So, I guess gods _can_ bleed,” he said. He slipped the sword over his shoulder into its holster as Sephiroth gave him an unamused stare. “Or maybe you really are human this time.”

“Just…” Sephiroth trailed there. Instead of engaging, he chose to walk around Cloud, or at least he tried to, until Cloud grabbed him by his elbow. Even though Sephiroth glared at him for it, Cloud didn’t let go.

“Just what? No speech this time? No gifts of despair? You just tell me ‘you’re tired’ and then try to walk away like that? Like you haven’t made most of my life a fucking hell?” Cloud hadn’t meant to bark that in Sephiroth’s face, but it was out there now. “And you just said you’re sorry. Damn right you’re _sorry_ ,” he spat.

“Cloud. What more do you want?” asked Sephiroth. His voice was that same cool and calm tone he used – not devoid of emotion, just well in control of it. The opposite of how Cloud felt.

“I want to know you’re not going to try to destroy the Planet, or kill me in my sleep. Or poison the drinking water or something,” said Cloud. His hand squeezed Sephiroth’s arm harder as he spoke.

“I’m not going to destroy the Planet. Killing you in your sleep is hardly sporting. Poisoning the drinking water seems archaic and I don’t have a handlebar moustache to _deviously_ twirl while I do so.”

Sephiroth’s answer made Cloud drop his arm and stare at him, slack jawed. “Wait, was… did you just make a joke?”

Sephiroth’s lips tightened into a firm line. “Apparently not.”

Cloud shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with one hand. “This is too much. I feel like the Planet is playing a prank on me. I am not drunk enough for this. I can’t _get_ drunk enough for this,” he said. He took a few deep breaths as he tried to wrap his brain around the situation.

“You are not the only one, Cloud,” replied Sephiroth, even though Cloud had not asked for his input.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sephiroth drew in a long breath and held it before he responded. “It would be difficult to explain.”

“Start trying,” said Cloud, but his chance was interrupted when his phone rang. He looked to the screen and realized it was Tifa returning his earlier attempt at reaching her. “Okay, don’t talk. Just… stay there.”

“Where would I go?” asked Sephiroth, who got Cloud’s hand in his face as he answered his phone.

 _“Cloud, what’s wrong? Are you okay? I heard you were in Ajit… do you need backup?”_ asked Tifa, ever ready to fly to Cloud’s assistance. Something he appreciated, even if he had a hard time showing it.

“I’m fine. I just… listen, Tifa, I need you to call Cid and have him pick up you and your truck,” said Cloud as a plan formed in his mind. It was one thing to move Sephiroth, it was another to smuggle him somewhere. But Sephiroth would have to comply or he could stay in Ajit.

 _“…Okay, but you need to explain why._ ”

“Tifa, if I explained it to you now, you might never talk to me again,” said Cloud. He pulled his hand away from Sephiroth’s face long enough for the taller man to open his mouth – and put his hand right back over it again. A small wrestling match ensued as Cloud attempted to keep his tone calm. “Just get here as soon as possible,” he said before he hung up.

“Explaining my presence should be entertaining to watch,” said Sephiroth when Cloud finally let his mouth go.

“Shut up. You’re going to explain it. To me, first, because I still don’t understand.”

Sephiroth stared down at him, his face a neutral mask as he thought – one of the things Cloud had once admired now just drove him nuts. His composure irritated Cloud and made him wish the man really was a moustache-twirling villain from cartoons. It made him easier to hate.

“Very well.” Sephiroth turned away from Cloud toward an overturned section of tree and sat himself on the old wood. He waited for Cloud to join him as he sat; Cloud stood nearby instead. “When I fell through that shell house you found me in, I had, in simplest terms, a dream.”

“Something actually hit _you_ in the head hard enough to knock you out? And the whole time fighting you, I’ve been using a sword,” said Cloud as he folded his arms over his chest.

Sephiroth sighed and took another long breath. It became apparent to Cloud that this slow breathing he did was how Sephiroth kept from killing people for the slightest irritations. “It wasn’t a dream from a concussion. I… travelled.”

“Travelled,” repeated Cloud. His hands went to his hips and he shook his head. “Yeah, right through the house.”

“Stop interrupting.”

Cloud held his hands up and then waved for Sephiroth to continue. “Okay, so you travelled. Where? What did you see?” A tight muscle in Sephiroth’s jaw hinted that Cloud started to get under his skin. _Good,_ he thought. _Let the bastard get annoyed. Give me a reason, Sephiroth…_

“I went… forward. In time.” Sephiroth paused and held his hand up when Cloud started to question him again, but this time he refrained. “Your little Ancient had a hand in it. She wanted to show me a potential future.” Sephiroth’s voice trailed off at the end – there was something he held back, but Cloud would bide his time. “It was you and I – continuing to fight. Forever. Jenova would not allow me to stop, and as such, the Planet would not let you die. An eternal stalemate between you and I. Nothing else was left but ash and dust.”

“That’s it?” asked Cloud. “We just fight forever and don’t die?”

“Oh, no, we both died. I watched myself impale you on my sword, and you put a knife through my heart before you perished. Then we got up and started over. Just two filthy puppets in an unending, unyielding battle.” Sephiroth looked up at Cloud’s face from where he sat, looked him right in the eyes, and then looked away.

 _Definitely more than he’s letting on,_ thought Cloud. “Aerith showed you that future? And you just decided ‘Hey, this sucks, let’s go make friends with Cloud?’ You’re not telling me everything.”

Sephiroth licked his lips and avoided eye contact for just a moment longer before he turned to look. “She showed me something else, a possibility of a future much more appealing than the… alternative. That’s all I’m going to say, for now.”

“And just like that, you’ve decided to stop fighting. Forgive me if I’m skeptical,” said Cloud. He took a step back when Sephiroth stood suddenly. He reached for his blade when Sephiroth held Masamune out to him, not as a threat, but as an offering. The blade had been swung behind Sephiroth in a move so quick Cloud had missed it, and then found himself presented with the long handle. “What?”

“Take it. I’m letting you disarm me, perhaps to see that I’m not going to kill you,” said Sephiroth.

Cloud reached for the handle, but pulled his hands back just before he touched it. “You could still take it back. Isn’t it like, a magic part of you?” he asked. “I recall it appearing out of nowhere the last time we fought.”

Sephiroth’s eyes slid up under his lids as he looked skyward. “Just. Take it,” he said as he butted the end into Cloud’s chest.

“Fine. Don’t think this means I trust you,” said Cloud as he found himself with the weapon that had taken more lives than he could count, that had put a permanent scar into his right shoulder. As he held Masamune, he studied the weapon, the curve of the blade and the weight of it. He didn’t think he could ever wield something so long, but that was probably the point. An impossible weapon for an impossible man.

“I know you don’t. I wouldn’t,” said Sephiroth. He started to walk away from Cloud, along the bone-white path that led back out of Ajit and through the Sleeping Forest.

“Hey, stay in sight!” shouted Cloud as he jogged to keep up. “Damn long legs,” he grumbled.

 

The Sleeping Forest greeted them as it had in the past, with a misty blue haze and the subtle whispers of the leaves above. No matter how many times he had been through it, and how much he knew better, Cloud couldn’t help feel like the forest had its own special brand of spookiness. Every shadow was alive, every tree branch seemed just short of touching them.

“Don’t suppose you have a Lunar Harp in that coat,” said Cloud as he walked alongside Sephiroth. Masamune was pointed behind him like a particularly rigid tail.

“You know that’s just a myth. It’s not the music that was supposed to keep travelers safe, it was the fact that they focused on playing, on keeping themselves distracted from potential illusions,” said Sephiroth as he marched along. “Because the forest can catch the unwary off guard and those not focused could walk for miles in the same circle.”

“I’d take anything over this quiet,” admitted Cloud.

“We could talk,” offered Sephiroth. The corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk.

“Oh, yeah, because talking is something we don’t really do anymore,” snapped Cloud. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to, but I think ‘being dead’ is a rather short story.”

Sephiroth frowned and for a moment, Cloud thought he had gotten to him. “Death is not silence, not in the Lifestream,” he said quietly. “There are millions of voices on the other side, along with an unyielding pull, as if one is being dragged by a strong current. ‘Lifestream’ is perhaps the kindest nomenclature.”

Cloud stopped walking and stared at the back of Sephiroth’s coat. When he realized Cloud had stopped, he turned and stared. “What?”

“You remember what it’s like?”

“Of course. I have all of my memories now, courtesy of the Cetra.” Sephiroth raised a brow and studied him. “I don’t know how she did it, but she fished them all out and returned them. It wasn’t pleasant.”

Cloud frowned and shook his head. “It’s not nice, huh? Being reminded of all the shit you pulled? All the lives you took?”

“And all those I have lost. Suffering is not a privilege unique to you, Cloud Strife.” Sephiroth turned again and resumed his walk out of the forest.

Cloud scowled after Sephiroth and had to jog to catch up again. “Her name was Aerith Gainsborough. Not just ‘The Cetra.’ That wasn’t what she wanted to be remembered for.”

“Apologies, then,” said Sephiroth as he stopped once more, at a fork in the road. Cloud paused with him this time and studied the path. Both looked equally worn from use.

“This way,” said Cloud after a moment. He grabbed Sephiroth by the elbow and started to drag him down the right-hand side before Sephiroth jerked his arm free.

“Are you certain?”

“No, but we don’t have much other choice and I’d rather not be stuck thinking about it for too long. This path seems like a good one, so we’re going down it.” Cloud glanced back at Sephiroth, who was still with him. “Or do you just not like someone else being in charge?” he asked.

“Just carry on. If it’s a dead end, we can turn back and take the other way,” Sephiroth replied.

Satisfied with Sephiroth’s sudden compliance, Cloud let him go after a few minutes and he fell into step beside Cloud. That fact alone raised questions in Cloud’s mind – it meant Sephiroth had shortened his stride instead of trying to take the lead.

An uncomfortable silence began to grow as they walked. Without much to focus on, it felt like they had gone forever in the same direction. Cloud looked around them. His eyelids felt heavy and his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“Whe—where are we?” he murmured after a few more – or was it a dozen more? – steps through the forest. He leaned against a tree, which made Sephiroth stop in front of him. “I can’t remember where we were going.”

Sephiroth shook his head. The fuzzy blue light caught on his silver hair and made Cloud’s vision swim. It was like looking at Sephiroth through a fish tank. Cloud rubbed at his eyes – Sephiroth said something, but it was lost in the sounds of the tree branches that swayed above. When had that gotten so loud?

“What?” asked Cloud. He asked it to the forest floor, where he had suddenly decided it was a good place to lie down.

Sephiroth’s voice was suddenly over his ear. Cloud turned in the dirt to see Sephiroth had knelt beside his head. A silver waterfall was draped over his shoulder – no, it had been Sephiroth’s hair… Cloud reached out to touch it, but his hand didn’t quite make it there.

“Cloud, focus.”

Cloud could see green and ivory and silver over his face; his eyelids felt so heavy. His body felt like it could sink into the ground and stay in the cool earth forever. That was until something black slashed across his vision and his face began to hurt – a lot, in fact.

Cloud sat up and rubbed at his cheek. The blue haze sharpened into trees and filtered light through ancient leaves. The green-ivory-silver blot became Sephiroth’s unamused expression.

“Good. I was concerned I’d have to drag you back to the fork by your leg.”

“Why did you hit me?” demanded Cloud, still rubbing his cheek.

“You weren’t listening. And you tried to touch me. I thought stopping you before you embarrassed yourself was in our best interests,” explained Sephiroth, getting up from his crouch in the dirt.

Cloud rubbed his face one more time and tried to remember what had just happened. “Did I… say anything?” He picked himself up and grabbed Masamune from the forest floor.

Sephiroth snorted derisively. “You made a vague ‘ooooh’ sound before I slapped you. I’ll let the fact that you succumbed to the forest’s hypnotic effects be your excuse …this time.”

The red on Cloud’s face deepened with the realization that he must have been fascinated with Sephiroth somehow – probably just the haze getting to him – and that he tried to paw at his enemy like a drunken toddler.

“How come you’re not rolling around in the dirt then?” he asked. He needed his stupid moment forgotten as soon as possible if they were going to get out of there. “Why didn’t it bother you?”  
  
“Unlike you, I found something to focus on. I counted our footsteps, including the ones you took when you decided to lay on the ground. Under a tree. In a forest. That was why I kept pace with you – I knew this was going to happen.”

Cloud pushed at Sephiroth and got himself back on the road. “You did not. You were just… prepared for it.” He turned and looked around them. He couldn’t remember which direction they had come from since entering that fugue state.

“This way, sleepwalker,” said Sephiroth, brushing past Cloud with a flap of his coat. “I drew a line in the road,” he added, stepping over a mark that had to have been carved out with the heel of his boot.  
  
“This way, sleepwalker,” mimicked Cloud in a whiny voice. “Not everyone is Mr. Perfect, you know,” said Cloud. It was petty, but it was all he had to throw at him since Sephiroth had kept him from just meandering away. Why, he still didn’t understand.

“You can be pedantic later. I’d rather get out of this forest before I have to go chasing after you again,” said Sephiroth. He looked ahead of them, his eyes trained in one direction. Cloud could see his lips twitch as he counted to himself.

“Stop staring at me,” muttered Sephiroth, mid-count. “Find something else to focus on.”

“I could just hang onto your hair like a leash and you could be my seeing-eye dog,” countered Cloud. He had no idea why he was being so childish, but it felt good to just irritate Sephiroth. Even if the other was good at hiding it, a little inflection in his next words told Cloud he’d struck a nerve.

“Do it, and I’ll tear your arm off.”

Cloud couldn’t help himself. He started to laugh, hard enough that he doubled over and had to brace himself on another tree. Sephiroth just watched him impassively from the road, confusion evident in the way his eyebrow quirked up at Cloud’s outburst of laughter.

“What’s so funny now?” he demanded. Cloud just laughed harder.

“I don’t know. I just never…” Cloud wiped at his eye and shook his head. “It’s funny, to me, that you can even get annoyed. I just thought you were a frigid jerk. Somewhere after the hero worship wore off and before… that mission.”

Sephiroth’s lips tightened into a frown. “An image I did well to cultivate to keep most at bay. It wasn’t always effective, if you recall. Not everyone thought I was an insurmountable fortress.”

Cloud stopped laughing then and just leaned against the tree. _Zack. He means Zack._ “Well, those who didn’t must have seen something in you. Maybe there _was_ something, back then,” he said. He looked up at the tree above them and realized that he hadn’t heard any birdsong or even other animals in the forest. But he could hear footsteps leading away from him.

“We should keep moving. The daylight won’t last forever,” said Sephiroth, his back to Cloud as he continued on without him.

 _Oh-kay…_ thought Cloud. He pushed away from the tree and followed Sephiroth along the road and kept his eyes on the taller man’s back instead of risking another glance at the forest itself. The walk back was quiet, the return trip laden with tension from their conversation.

 

The second path was smoother but still quiet as Sephiroth kept to himself and Cloud refrained from any other commentary. The trees on the second path began to spread further apart as they walked, and the light less hazy. Real color started to come back to the forest – greens and browns and most importantly: sounds. Birdsong, small forest creatures that scurried away as soon as the two passed by, and an orange glow from the sun as it began to set.

“Okay, so you got us out of there.” Cloud hefted Masamune over his shoulder and reached to pat Sephiroth on the arm before he received a frosty gaze from the other warrior. “Good… good job,” he faltered.

“What are you going to do with me now?” asked Sephiroth. The Bone Village was just ahead of them, and most of the archaeologists were turned in for the coming night, but they wouldn’t be able to stay.

“I’ve got back up coming. Tifa should be able to meet us on the peninsula by the time we reach it. We’re gonna take you on the Shera and head back to Edge,” explained Cloud. He did not look at Sephiroth - his own thoughts were on how Tifa was going to take this. He still didn’t get it himself.

“I’m certain Miss Lockheart will welcome me with open arms, as you have,” quipped Sephiroth. “After she puts your lights out for not telling her I was coming along for the ride.”

Cloud rubbed at the back of his head. “I guess you remember Tifa, too.”

“I do. As I recall, she tried to protect you at all costs, and you were afraid of her seeing you. It’s an old memory. You were shorter.”

Cloud rolled his eyes and nearly missed the quirk of Sephiroth’s lips at the expense of Cloud’s dignity. “Not everyone can be six feet tall, Sephiroth. Makes taking your lumbering ass down all the more satisfying.”

“Six-six.”

“Huh?”

“Cloud, I am six foot six inches. You are… five-foot-nine?” Sephiroth turned toward him and took a couple steps closer. “Ten?”

Cloud frowned and backed up. “Five t-ten, yeah. Why?” Cloud received Sephiroth’s right hand on top of his head, much to his bewilderment. It was so unexpected that it made him freeze up – even more so when suddenly his vision was level with the cross-belts on Sephiroth’s chest.

“That is why.”

Cloud used his free hand to swat at Sephiroth’s arm and push at his chest, to get some distance between them. _What in Gaea’s name was that all about? Measuring me for a burial plot?_ he wondered as he watched Sephiroth back away from him. Something unreadable flickered in Sephiroth’s gaze, something that looked… sad?

“Be strange to someone else,” said Cloud. He didn’t want to dwell on that _look_ in Sephiroth’s eye, or why he had decided to invade his personal space. Of anyone on the Planet, living or dead that Cloud could have named wouldn’t want to be up close to him, Sephiroth would have been at the top of that list. “Your little head games are worse than your flowery villain speeches,” threw in Cloud.

Sephiroth’s gaze focused on him again, paired with a frown. He turned and walked around to the outskirts of the village, following along paths left by the archaeologists so as to not disrupt the dig sites.

Cloud shook his head. “You just keep getting weirder…” he mumbled to himself as he followed a few paces behind. If Sephiroth heard him, he made no signal to that fact.

 

It took them another hour to get around the village and out onto the peninsula. When Cloud and Sephiroth made it that far out they found that Tifa was already waiting for them beside her truck. The music was blaring across the plain and she practiced her katas to the rhythm, right until she noticed that she had company. She stopped, balanced on one foot with her other in the middle of a kick, then fell into a stance when she spotted Sephiroth.

Cloud took a deep breath. No part of this was going to be easy. He could already tell Tifa questioned his mental stability. She had to wonder if Sephiroth had tricked him into obedience again. Even Cloud wasn’t certain that he hadn’t been manipulated. But first thing was first.

“Tifa-“ started Cloud.

“Why isn’t he dead?” she demanded. Cloud felt his throat close up. It was a legitimate question.

Sephiroth answered before Cloud came up with an answer. “I surrendered.”

“Surrendered,” repeated Tifa. She came out of her stance and walked up to Sephiroth, head held high and unafraid of him. In a flash, she had thrown an upper-cut punch into his jaw with a loud “crunch” of bone. “How _dare_ you!” She stood over him as he wobbled on his feet, caught off guard by the blow.

“Tifa!” exclaimed Cloud. That she walked right up and broken Sephiroth’s jaw in a single hit was unbelievable and kind of cool, if he was honest with himself.

“I was not expecting that,” grumbled Sephiroth, words slightly garbled by his hand and the blood coming out of his mouth. “I thought you’d hit him first.” He spat blood onto the ground – Cloud realized he had either bitten his tongue or the inside of his mouth.

“You don’t even get to talk!” shouted Tifa. “What do you think you’re going to achieve? What’s in it for you this time, huh? What are you making Cloud do?” she yelled.

“Tifa, wait…” started Cloud. Tifa put her hand in his face.

“Not now. I want to know what this monster thinks he’s doing here, what right he has to speak to anyone after all that he’s done.”

Sephiroth coughed and spat again, another bloody glob hitting the grass under him. “You’re correct, I don’t have any rights. I surrendered to Cloud of my own free will. And I’ll surrender to yours, if you don’t trust him,” added Sephiroth.

To both Tifa and Cloud’s surprise, Sephiroth got down on both knees and his good hand planted on the ground for support.

“I’m tired of fighting. If you choose to believe me or not; I can’t make you. Cloud has my weapon. Make of that what you will,” Sephiroth said.

Cloud just stared. Sephiroth was making an effort to prove _something_ , for some reason, but Cloud just couldn’t figure out his endgame. That he would prostrate himself before Tifa just added a whole new layer of questions of Cloud’s already full backlog.  
  
“Cloud, give me his sword.” Tifa’s words made him blink. He started to hand over the weapon before he withdrew his arm.

“Why?” he asked. Tifa was a smart woman and an excellent fighter, but she still had an irresistible impulsive side that proved dangerous more than once.

“I want his weapon in _my_ hands. Not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t know what he’s done to you,” said Tifa. “I won’t hurt him. Not yet.”

Cloud glanced at Sephiroth, who still knelt in the grass without moving or speaking in his own defense. Slowly, he handed over Masamune to Tifa, who pulled it away from his grip with a sharp yank.

“This sword has taken too many lives,” said Tifa. She stood over Sephiroth. “Including my father’s. I’m not going to let you take any more with it.” Sephiroth just nodded, and Tifa leaned down and pulled him up by his bruised jaw. “Eyes on me,” she said. It was the coldest Cloud had ever heard Tifa talk to anyone.

Tifa turned toward her truck and leaned the legendary sword against it, the point buried in the ground so it rested at an angle. With a loud cry, Tifa spun and brought her foot out with enough force that Masamune snapped clean in the center; her truck rocked from the force. Sephiroth said nothing.

Tifa took a few deep breaths and collected the pieces. “Never again,” she said as she dumped the halves of Masamune before Sephiroth.

Cloud was stunned. He had expected Tifa to threaten him, to attack Sephiroth or just try to finish what he’d started in Ajit, but instead, she destroyed his weapon. She might as well have ripped his arm off. He could see the fury in Sephiroth’s eyes, but he made no move against her, just watched in silence as she climbed into her vehicle and waited.

“If he’s getting in, you both can ride in the back. I’m so pissed I don’t want to look at either of you right now,” said Tifa from her truck window.

Cloud nodded and turned to Sephiroth, who had already stood up again. He stared down at the pieces of Masamune and breathed slow and deep – this trip was going to be terrible.

“I didn’t think she was going to do that,” murmured Cloud.

“Masamune was as familiar as the rest of my silhouette. She destroyed ‘me’ without getting her hands dirty. A nobler act than I might have done,” said Sephiroth. He leaned over again and picked up the end half of the blade. Cloud met him in the middle and grabbed the handle side, then took both pieces.

Cloud admitted quietly, “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

“Because you wouldn’t want anyone doing the same to your own sword. It’s a small piece of understanding between swordsmen.” With that, Sephiroth turned away from Cloud and climbed into the back of Tifa’s idling truck.

Cloud followed behind Sephiroth. He loaded the halves of Masamune into the truck bed and tried his hardest to not associate sitting there with another road trip, one that had ended in misery for him. “Let’s mosey,” Cloud said through the open rear window of the truck cab.

“…Mosey?” said Sephiroth.

“Shut up.”

 

The trip from the Peninsula to the Shera was short, but still tense. Cloud watched Sephiroth, and Sephiroth, in turn, ignored him. Cloud wanted more information – specifically, what he thought he was going to do with his life. They had just walked out of Ajit. No, Sephiroth had started walking, and Cloud tagged along because he didn’t want Sephiroth out of his sight. That Sephiroth had willingly given up his weapon and let it be broken said a lot, but _explained_ precisely nothing.

Then there was that nagging feeling Cloud had that said Sephiroth had something up his sleeve, something he wasn’t sharing with the class. He could have easily allowed Cloud to meander away into the Sleeping Forest but he _didn’t,_ he helped Cloud come to his senses – more or less. Sephiroth didn’t do anything by halves, not without a plan in mind. But if he was really tired, willing to put an end to the fighting – what _was_ he going to do?

“Stop staring,” said Sephiroth. He was still not looking at Cloud, his eyes fixed on the horizon as they left the Bone Village area.

Cloud’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. “I’m just trying to figure you out. It was a lot easier when you were just a destructive madman. Your actions were more linear. Now we’re here, and you’re just sitting in Tifa’s truck like we weren’t trying to kill each other a few hours ago.”

“Forgive my depth of personality,” replied Sephiroth dryly. His gaze flicked sideways toward Cloud, but he still wouldn’t _face_ him. “I will endeavor to be more predictable if it will put your mind at ease.”

Cloud snorted and shook his head. “You don’t get it. You think you’re just going to walk onto Cid’s ship, or even into Edge without someone trying to kill you? You’re a ghost, Sephiroth. People sleep better at night, thinking you’re dead. You can’t just… show up again and go ‘oops, I fucked up!’ like that will make things better.” Cloud gestured between them. “You think I accepted your shitty little ‘I’m sorry’ back there? Because I really haven’t, and I don’t think I will.”

“That’s fair,” conceded Sephiroth as he finally turned to look Cloud in the eye. “I don’t know if I can ever heal the wounds I’ve left on the Planet, but I think I can start with you.”

If Cloud had been sitting on a chair, he might have fallen out of it. His mouth hung open, and then worked itself up and down like a dying fish. “You… you want to …atone?” Cloud shook his head. “And speaking of ‘fair,’ that’s someone you’re accountable for too, you know. If you hadn’t gone bananas, Zack would still be alive.”

Sephiroth nodded, slowly, as he listened. “Perhaps he would be. Perhaps he would have established a very fine career as a SOLDIER 1st Class. And perhaps he would have hated himself for every moment of it.” Sephiroth leaned forward, his knees bent up and his left arm tucked farther into himself. “Do you know how he got his promotion?”

Cloud thought about it and shook his head. He had been a grunt at the time, just in the regular army. He hadn’t known Zack for very long before the Nibelheim incident; their friendship grew out of necessity while under Hojo’s “care.”

“No, I don’t,” admitted Cloud.

Sephiroth glanced toward the open window of the cab. Tifa had her attention on driving. “He got it by killing his mentor. Under my orders.” Cloud started to speak up, but Sephiroth held his right hand up to stop him. “I was ordered to hunt and eliminate Angeal Heweley, Zack’s mentor. Angeal and his friend, Genesis Rhapsodos, were also 1st Class SOLDIERs, second in command under my lead as General. They were also the only friends I had.”

Cloud fell silent; he knew none of this, even from his borrowed memories of Zack’s, fragmented as they were. It didn’t shock him too much, to learn it straight from the source – ShinRa’s habit of sweeping away bad PR was legendary for a reason. They had probably been erased from existence by then.

“Why did… what happened?” asked Cloud, so quiet he barely heard himself, but Sephiroth picked up on it.

“In short, they discovered the secret to our births long before I even set foot in Nibelheim. Genesis was desperate for a cure after… I’d injured him in a spar and defected with a scientist not nearly as much a horrific genius as Hojo. He eventually coaxed Angeal into defecting as well.”

There was a long pause. The road under them grew bumpier as they got closer to the airship. The Shera’s engines almost drowned out the last thing Sephiroth said before they boarded.

“I was going to leave ShinRa after the Nibelheim mission. I trusted Zack with the news, since he was the only person who understood.”

Tifa parked the truck under the Shera, the airship’s engines thrummed loudly overhead. Cloud watched Sephiroth hop out of the back as he himself sat there, stunned. He didn’t know how much he could trust, but something at the back of Cloud’s mind told him that he should believe that much.

 

“What the fuck is this!?” barked Cid. He had come down to greet Cloud and Tifa and discovered a third, unexpected guest. “Who the fuck said I was transporting this fuckin’ bastard any-fucking-where?!” he shouted. Cid risked his arm as he stuck it right in Sephiroth’s face. “You ain’t got a ticket on my boat, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth looked down at Cid and replied, as calmly as ever, “It’s a good thing this isn’t a boat,” he said.

Cloud got himself between Cid and Sephiroth before Cid gave himself a stroke. Cid’s face was redder than Vincent’s cape, and if Cloud didn’t know any better, he worried Cid might learn to transform like the gunslinger did.

“Hold it… I can… well, I can’t really explain, but just… I’m going to be responsible for him and anything he does on the ship, Cid,” said Cloud. He put his hands on Cid’s shoulders and tried to get the pilot to look at him, instead of over his head to Sephiroth.

“Yer damned right you will, because if he tries to hurt my baby, you’re _both_ going overboard in the North Sea!” shouted Cid. He stuck a Malboro Red in his teeth and lit it. He huffed and puffed until a halo of smoke formed around his head before he turned around and stomped back up the stairs to head up to the upper levels. Just before he left, Cid shouted: “Yer sharin’ a bunk! I don’t want him gettin’ away with shit while you’re asleep! Captain’s orders!” With that, he slammed the cargo bay door for emphasis.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. “Your friends are very classy, Cloud.”

“Don’t start,” replied Cloud. He ran a hand over his face and left Sephiroth standing there to approach Tifa. “Ti-“

Tifa interrupted Cloud before he could seek an ally in her. “I’m with Cid on this one. I don’t trust him, and for the time being, I’m not sure I trust you. Whatever he does is on you.”

Cloud took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. I get it,” he said. Tifa started to speak again, but he cut her off. “No, I really do. This is a really weird situation. I’m just… I’m just gonna have to deal with it. Him.”

Tifa sighed and put a hand on Cloud’s cheek. “Just be careful, okay? You know why I’m mad.”

Cloud nodded. “I know. But I promise, this… this is different. I’ll be able to explain it better when I understand it more… clearly myself.” He turned and looked at Sephiroth, who explored the contents of Cid’s cargo hold with passing curiosity. He would pause, read a label as to what was in a crate, then move onto something else. “If I can understand it.”

“Does this ship have a medical facility?” asked Sephiroth. Cloud turned and frowned at him. Sephiroth moved his left arm, still carried in the makeshift sling of his coat sleeve. “I’d like to sew this back on before it gets gangrenous,” continued Sephiroth, his voice dry as ever.

Tifa gave Cloud a questioning look as he turned back to face her. “He’s been like this since we left Ajit,” said Cloud. He shrugged and shook his head. “I didn’t think he even had a sense of humor,” whispered Cloud. Tifa snorted a little, which gave Cloud hope that he wasn’t about to lose his best friend over this.

“I can still hear you,” added Sephiroth.

Cloud let out a growl of frustration. “Gaea, save me,” he said. “C’mon, General Sassypants… _let’s mosey.”_ Behind him, Cloud hear Sephiroth gag like something was caught in his throat.

“There’s that word again. And the name-calling.” Sephiroth followed him up the stairs to the next-level door. “That you are my greatest foe must be some sort of cosmic joke.”

Cloud shrugged as he opened the door. He wanted Sephiroth in front of him this time. “Karmic joke. Come back from the dead too many times and this is what you get. Backwoods hick humor and first-grade trash talk.”

Just before he shut the door, Cloud heard Tifa wish him luck. He _was_ going to need it.

 

Cloud directed Sephiroth to the infirmary of Cid’s ship. Since it was rarely used (something Cid was proud of), everything was neat and clean, kept tidy just in case. Sephiroth commandeered a rolling table and dragged it noisily over to the supplies cabinet. Cloud followed him over and stopped him before he could pick out what he was looking for.

“You weren’t really going to sew your shoulder up yourself, were you?” he asked. Sephiroth raised a brow and looked down his nose at him, which Cloud did not appreciate.

“You think I haven’t tended my own wounds before? Contrary to popular belief, my limbs don’t magically regenerate,” clipped Sephiroth as he reached for the peroxide.

“At least don’t be a stubborn ass and let me help,” replied Cloud. His face was burning from annoyance with Sephiroth’s attitude. “It’s the least I can do since you didn’t just leave me to die in the Sleeping Forest.”

Sephiroth opened his mouth for a retort, then seemed to think the better of it. He turned away and sat on one of the room’s stools. Cloud took a deep breath and turned away while Sephiroth took off his coat, the leather and armor hitting the floor heavily behind him. The cross-belts followed with a clatter.

Supplies chosen, Cloud turned back to face Sephiroth and wheeled the table over. He traded his own leather gloves for a nitrile pair and hooked a disposable mask over his face. He set up the sutures, the needle and thread and opened a large roll of gauze, wadding it in his hand. “Going for the peroxide was stupid – you’d burn the hell out of yourself,” criticized Cloud as he poured sanitized saline wash over the wounded area.

“Per- _ah_ -xide doesn’t burn, it stings,” muttered Sephiroth. He picked a spot beyond Cloud and fixed his eyes on it – all the better; Cloud didn’t need Sephiroth criticizing his methods. “Because it removes bacteria and clears out the dried blood,” continued Sephiroth. Occasionally, he would flinch slightly – his eyelids fluttered just a bit whenever Cloud pressed a bit hard with the gauze as he cleaned the wound.

Cloud raised an eyebrow over Sephiroth’s explanation – all this, he knew, as he had learned when taking care of his own friends. “Still, trying to stitch yourself up with one hand – your non-dominant one, by the way – is hard enough.” He picked up the needle with a clamp and began to thread the suture through Sephiroth’s shoulder.

“Where did you find the time to go to med school?” asked Sephiroth. He looked up at Cloud from the corner of his eye, just barely hidden by his bangs. “You’re… passable with that.”

Cloud snorted and shook his head. “Not everyone on my team has had Hojo rearrange their anatomy for better efficiency. And potions don’t put people back together again. I learned by necessity. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to patch Cid up because he jumped on the wrong monster.”

It was Sephiroth’s turn to snort-laugh over Cid. “I’m sure you learned many colorful words from him as well.”

“A few.” Cloud smiled under his mask while he kept working. Once he had finished, Cloud opened a pad of gauze and laid it gently over the area. He muttered for Sephiroth to hold still while he began to wrap his shoulder with a bandage. It required him to reach around Sephiroth’s torso several times, which he found the bigger man to tense up every time.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” asked Cloud as he stood back to admire his work. Not quite professional, but it would pass. Sephiroth wouldn’t take that long to heal anyway.

“I… what?”

Cloud looked Sephiroth in the eye for a moment before Sephiroth turned and hid his face behind that damned wall of silver hair. “I said, it’s been a while. Like, it’s been a while since you’ve needed to be patched up.” Cloud leaned sideways in an attempt to view his face. Sephiroth just turned farther away. “Why aren’t you looki—are you blushing?”

Sephiroth turned and scowled at him. “I’m dehydrated,” he grunted as he got up and crossed over to the infirmary’s small sink and stole a plastic cup’s worth of water. He guzzled it down and then drank another.

“Ooooookaaaay.” Cloud shook his head and took the stool Sephiroth had vacated. He folded his arms over his chest and waited for Sephiroth to stop drinking himself an excuse to stop talking. “I know that I don’t have much to go on, but you’re being extra weird.”

Sephiroth stopped chugging water long enough to give Cloud an exasperated stare. “You hardly know me.”

For some reason, that just made Cloud grin. “So you acting like a socially awkward teenager is actually your ‘normal’ setting? The things I learn…” he said with a chuckle.

Sephiroth frowned and threw away his cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice flat and yet it screamed “denial” to Cloud. That just made Cloud laugh again. The whole thing was just too surreal to _not_ laugh.

“Fine, fine, keep your precious mystery or whatever. You just tensed up when I was wrapping you. I thought, I don’t know, it was embarrassing to have _me_ clean up _your_ wounds. Considering I don’t recall you ever even declaring a vacation, let alone a sick day.” Cloud hooked his heels into the ring at the bottom of the stool and twisted himself back and forth. “You know, if I crossed a boundary, you can tell me. I’m not a creep.”

Sephiroth closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, the messiest Cloud had ever seen it get. He tugged on the silver strands and growled in his throat. “Just please, stop talking. I have… issues with being touched, but I also knew your intent. I …you reminded me of… someone.”

Cloud stopped half-spinning and looked at Sephiroth harder now. He leaned against the sink his weight supported on one leg and his good arm, almost like a damned model, if said model also had a shoulder injury. “Who?”

Sephiroth turned his head, his face behind his bangs. Cloud picked up that was how he could hide himself in someone’s presence. He resolved that if Sephiroth was really going to be ‘better’ around him, he was going to have to work on that habit.

“Sephiroth…” Cloud began. At the same time, Sephiroth replied to his question with “I can’t tell you,” murmured so softly Cloud almost missed it.

Instead, Cloud held up his hands in placation. He’d let Sephiroth keep whatever was bothering him to himself – for now. He had learned the first time that letting Sephiroth brood over whatever bothered him was the worst possible idea, but pushing him was out of the question too.

“Alright, but just understand, keeping shit inside was what drove you nuts last time. Zack tried to reach out to you…” Cloud paused and took a deep breath. “And now, so am I.”

Sephiroth looked over to Cloud, his expression unreadable again. The best Cloud could estimate was that Sephiroth was seriously considering his offer. Something was definitely going on, anyway. He studied Cloud, his eyes moved in small little twitches like he was scanning for information. “Why would you?” he finally said, his voice still very quiet.

Cloud rubbed at the back of his neck and looked to the floor. He took another deep breath and rolled his head back on his shoulders and answered to the ceiling instead of to Sephiroth directly. “Because I’m tired, too. I’m tired of fighting, tired of being angry with you, with myself. Who I couldn’t save, who I should have saved, what I could have done differently, if anything could have been done. Zack wanted me to be his legacy, but I’m not…” Cloud’s head rolled forward and he tucked his chin to his chest. “I want to be happy.”

After a few moments of silence between them, Sephiroth spoke up. “I think you could achieve it. Between the two of us, the odds are certainly in your favor.”

 


	3. Maybe

Sephiroth turned away from where Cloud sat and went through the infirmary cabinets again. With his arm freshly sutured, re-locating the joint was going to prove difficult until the wound closed more. Cid proved to be rather tightfisted when it came to any sort of potion stock. Everything in the cabinets was standard medical fare, not much he could make do with.

“What are you doing?” asked Cloud from behind Sephiroth.

“Your pilot friend doesn’t carry much in the way of healing items,” said Sephiroth as he continued his search. It did yield him a thick ace bandage and a couple of clips, which he began to unroll on his own when Cloud got up from his stool and once again stopped him from tending to his own injuries.

“I know that I shouldn’t say this, but if you need help, ask for it. Watching you try to take care of yourself is a little depressing,” said Cloud as he took the bandage from Sephiroth. “I said I’d be responsible for you.”

“Yes, responsible, not my babysitter,” retorted Sephiroth, though he put the clips into Cloud’s hand when he held it out for them. “I don’t know why you said that,” he admitted a moment later. “Your friends are furious with you.”

“Sit,” commanded Cloud, instead of giving a direct answer. Sephiroth huffed and did as he was told, once again taking the stool that Cloud had vacated. “Keep your hair out of the way this time, I nearly taped it to your back,” added Cloud.

Sephiroth frowned, but twisted his hair around his right hand and held his hair up at the back of his head while Cloud worked. “You’re not going to tell me why.”

Cloud had just started the first pass of the bandage, which put his face very close to Sephiroth’s when he pinned him with that statement. “It’s complicated,” he said as he tucked the bandage over the nape of Sephiroth’s neck and pulled it under his left arm.

“Cloud, I’m certain you have noticed by now, but our lives _are_ complicated. Will you at least tell me why taking care of myself is ‘depressing’ to you?” asked Sephiroth. He held his breath a moment when Cloud made another pass with the wrap and brought them close again.

“Because it is,” said Cloud as he pinned the end of the bandage to itself. “I’m not sure you’d really appreciate why, anyway. It’s stupid.”

Sephiroth let his hair down and in the same movement snagged Cloud’s wrist before he got to pull away again. “It’s important enough to distract you,” he said. He looked Cloud in the eyes and observed how they briefly narrowed.

Cloud jerked his hand away, not that Sephiroth had all that tight a grip on him to begin with. “Then why don’t you share why you held your breath whenever I came close? You can’t deny it, I heard you inhale. And don’t try to be cute, like I smell bad or something. You smell like leather and blood.”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes up and closed them in an attempt to remain calm before the conversation turned into a childish word fight. He kept his eyes closed as he replied, softly, “It’s been a long time since anyone’s been that close to me. Without trying to kill me.” He could hear Cloud scratch at his hair; he opened his eyes to see him rub at the back of his head – a bleed-over habit from Zack, he assumed.

“Well, that just makes it even sadder,” began Cloud. “I mean, it… weirdly makes sense.”

“What does?”

Cloud smirked for just a moment before he spread his hands in front of him. “You probably wouldn’t have lost your mind if someone just… yanno, gave you a hug?”

Sephiroth leveled an unimpressed glare at him and leaned down to grab his coat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Cloud as Sephiroth moved to leave the infirmary.

“I’m going to throw myself off this ship. I can’t take your armchair psychology. Being alive again isn’t worth it,” grumbled Sephiroth.

“That’s a little dramati-“ Cloud latched both of his hands to Sephiroth’s elbow before he could get very far. “Whoa, whoa, wait, I didn’t… that came out wrong. I just meant…” Cloud sort of dangled off of Sephiroth’s elbow, which began to ache with the dead weight hanging there.

“What?” asked Sephiroth after an irritating moment of hesitation.

“I mean you were lonely!”

Sephiroth shut the infirmary door, still inside with Cloud. He shook the shorter man off of his arm and looked away. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down; he had few advantages right now, and if he killed Cloud in a fit of rage over a perfectly innocent – and infuriatingly _right_ – statement like that.

“Perhaps I was, once,” whispered Sephiroth. “Not that it excuses anything I’ve done, correct?”

Cloud was out of his frame of vision due to the length of his bangs, so when Cloud reached up and tucked them behind his ear suddenly, Sephiroth felt himself jump as he looked to the other man.

“It certainly doesn’t,” replied Cloud. The look he gave Sephiroth felt familiar: there was an earnest searching there. Cloud sought some sort of good in his enemy that could be built upon. The scrutiny made his skin crawl, yet the light touch of Cloud’s bare fingertips just against his ear made Sephiroth’s heart ache. “But,” continued Cloud, “I think you really do want to change. Call it a hunch.”

Sephiroth dropped his coat and slowly moved his good hand up and grabbed Cloud’s hand again, which caused the curtain of silver to block part of his face again. However, he looked down to Cloud and realized that he could hear blood rush in his ears. His heart beat a little faster. “Maybe,” he grunted. Sephiroth dropped Cloud’s hand and placed his own on Cloud’s shoulder to push him back. _An arm’s length,_ he said to himself. Cloud looked up at him with a slight tilt of his head and a shift of his jaw; confused, but he allowed Sephiroth to push him away.

With Cloud at a distance, Sephiroth stooped to pick up his coat again. Cloud was right there, hands on his things as he tried to help. Sephiroth frowned and pulled his belts from Cloud’s hand. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly as he stood up once more.

“Are you hungry?” asked Cloud. Sephiroth raised a brow at the sudden question. It wasn’t entirely out of place, but Cloud’s courtesy was something he would have to get used to.

“Would Cid feed me?”

Cloud chuckled. “Probably not, but I think if I stuck you in a room and got it myself, it might minimize the chances of you getting speared,” he said. “Follow me.”

Down a hallway and up another level, away from crew bunks and engine rooms, Cloud led Sephiroth to one of the extra rooms Cid had built into the Shera to ensure any of his friends would have a place to rest if they were on board. A bed was bolted onto the far wall, large enough to fit maybe two people if they laid close, as well as a small closet built right into the wall beside it. The room was enough to accommodate a person or two for a couple days, at least.

“Highwind really intends for us to stay in one room together? This has less space than a prison cell,” said Sephiroth. He crossed the room and sat on the bed with a frown. “I know airships are built with movement in mind, but there seems to be a lack of effort here.”

Cloud closed the door behind him and crossed the room to stand in front of Sephiroth. “Cid built this ship from scratch. I think the fact that it doesn’t fall out of the sky when it reaches peak altitude is much more important.”

Sephiroth resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead just looked up from where he sat. “Allow me to rephrase: Where are you going to sleep?”

Cloud blanched and looked around the room. There was a small chair in the corner and no bathroom – the communal bath was down the hall. “I’ll talk to Cid about taking my own room. He can’t seriously think you’re going to hijack his ship.”

A wicked thought crossed Sephiroth’s mind, if only to see how Cloud would react: “We could share the bed if he insists otherwise,” he said.

Much to Sephiroth’s surprise, Cloud didn’t shrink back or squirm like he expected. Instead, he put one hand on his hip and the other on his chin. “I call ‘little spoon’ then, because if I’m the ‘big spoon’ I’ll have to deal with your hair and that’s going to be a pain.”

Sephiroth’s lips parted in a small “o” shape for a second before Cloud started to laugh. “I’m not going to share a bed with you! I’ll get a cot or something. Not like I’ve never slept on a cold metal floor before,” he said.

Flustered that Cloud had gotten the better of him with something so stupid as to think he’d actually sleep with his enemy, Sephiroth turned and looked away. “As if I would really sleep with _you._ I don’t need the bristles of your… _Chocobo head_ getting up my nose in the night,” he said in an attempt to regain a little of his pride. He felt embarrassment at his own gullibility pool in his stomach; little things that _this_ Cloud did began to remind him of the one from another reality, and it was irritating.

_Stop pining for something that’s not even there,_ he reminded himself. _That Cloud was from another timeline. This one just enjoys poking fun at you_. Sephiroth closed his eyes and calmed the torrent of conflicting emotions that ran through his mind. When he opened them again, Cloud looked down at him with a tilted head and a furrowed brow.

“What?” asked Sephiroth.

Cloud shook his head and shrugged. “You’ve been doing that a lot. Closing your eyes, thinking. Like a short meditation.”

Sephiroth frowned up at him. “I’m…sorry for thinking,” he muttered. “I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t want to become a mindless puppet and so I have to not kill you.” He forced a flat smile, but it fell short of seeming like a joke.

“Sephiroth…”

“Cloud, if you want to help me, you can start with my boots. I can’t undo the left one,” interrupted Sephiroth. He stuck his leg out and nearly kicked Cloud’s shin in the process. It was a little petty, but Cloud had jumped out of the way all the same.

Cloud threw Sephiroth’s childishness right back at him and stuck his tongue out. “Keep it up and I’ll start pulling your hair.” He knelt beside Sephiroth’s leg and unlatched the buckle that held up his boot and started to slide it off his thigh.

“Do it and I’ll take your arm off,” warned Sephiroth. The mental image of Cloud’s arm ripped off at the shoulder was what he latched onto to avoid a subtle shiver from not just the feeling, but the visual before him of Cloud working his boot off of his leg. Sephiroth looked away and started on his right boot to keep himself distracted.

“I know you’re not okay,” said Cloud in a reminder that he was still there. “You’re tensing up again. I don’t expect you to tell me why, but you’re becoming really obvious about something bothering you.”

Sephiroth sighed and kicked the right boot off, which left him in just his regular combat pants and socks.

“Not saying anything is also kind of saying something, you know,” continued Cloud. “And you were notorious for being so stoic and calm in the face of adversity.” Cloud moved so he knelt between Sephiroth’s legs, which shut down Sephiroth’s means of avoiding eye contact. “Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure it has to do with me.”

“It has to do with the fact that you’re trying to take care of me. It’s an about-face from the fact that we were trying to kill each other this morning,” said Sephiroth. He felt uncomfortable with Cloud there between his legs, even though he had once demanded Cloud get on his knees before him. The context was completely different and it threw him off. “Why?”

It was Cloud’s turn to take a deep breath while he searched for the right words. “When I was a kid, you were my idol. It was almost path—no, it was _really_ pathetic. You were the youngest leader of the most powerful military force in the world and let’s face it, drop-dead gorgeous. But, you were some image in a magazine and you lived half a world away from me. I was some backwater runt in a tiny town where everyone hated me just because. I didn’t think a guy like you would ever be hated, because what did I know of politics? You certainly weren’t being bullied for just existing. So when I wanted to be just like you, I wanted that kind of power – everything that you represented to me.”

 Sephiroth smirked. “Well, you’ve certainly got the world’s favor now, haven’t you? You’re a hero to the Planet, my three-time executioner and savior to all.”

“I don’t feel like one.”

Sephiroth’s expression melted into a frown. “You never will. Heroism is a gilded ideal framed by those who don’t have any scars. Very few will be able to understand the emptiness that comes with shallow praise.”

Cloud propped his arms up on Sephiroth’s knees and rested his chin on the bridge of his forearms. “You do. All that bullshit ShinRa wrote about you… doesn’t even touch on what you actually did, right?”

Sephiroth nodded and watched Cloud’s eyes. They shifted from one side to the other as he avoided Sephiroth’s gaze directly. “Something we have in common, then.”

Cloud used Sephiroth’s legs as a brace and got himself off of the floor. “Yeah, we were both at the top and realized the view sucks.”

Sephiroth felt a laugh bubble up from his throat before he consciously had a chance to stomp it back down. “I’ve never heard it put quiet so… succinctly before.” A small smile lingered on his lips for a moment before it vanished again when Cloud uttered a quiet “huh.”

“Now what?” asked Sephiroth.

Cloud rubbed at his neck and shrugged. “That’s the first time I heard you laugh that wasn’t manic.”

Sephiroth frowned and huffed indignantly. “I’ll try to keep a lid on it,” he said, slightly insulted.

Cloud laughed now and shook his head. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think you were human, now would we?”

That just made Sephiroth turn his head so he didn’t have to look at Cloud, but it only made Cloud laugh harder. “Huff-y. You just stay here, your godliness, and I, the mere mortal, will get you an offering.”

Sephiroth’s jaw twitched with Cloud’s mocking tone. “You don’t need to be an ass.”

“Neither do you,” said Cloud. The door to the room shut before Sephiroth could comment, Cloud already gone.

_Damn you,_ he thought. Sephiroth took the opportunity to lie down while he had it. He had so much information to process and Cloud hadn’t given him a lot of time to do it. No, _Aerith_ hadn’t given him _any_ time. Just thrown him back into the waking world of his current timeline with a ghost of what could be lingering at the forefront of his thoughts. Cloud was onto him, certainly, but as long as Sephiroth maintained a stubborn attitude, Cloud wouldn’t get to find out.

“Cloud…” Sephiroth breathed the name out and closed his eyes. The one he had wed in another timeline seemed only similar to the one in the present because he was going out of his way to be nice. Why, Sephiroth didn’t have the foggiest idea. The fact that he kept touching Sephiroth made him tense and overly alert for some reason, like every nerve ending in his body was fixed on the contact.

_Has it really been so long?_ he wondered as he shifted to lie further up the bed, his head on the pillow. _When was the last time anyone…_ Sephiroth stopped his thoughts there. No one had really _touched_ him, not without intent to harm, in a very long time. Zack had tried his hand at physical affections; the attempts usually ended up comically bad for Fair as Sephiroth was not exactly “a hugger.”

That fact just drew him back to the alternate reality; that Cloud had been very tactile with him, openly tender in ways that made Sephiroth’s heart ache when he realized he had never been that intimate with anyone. Sephiroth rolled onto his right side and put his back to the door. His face was flushed with the recollection that ran away with his imagination. He remembered every gasp and sigh of his name from Cloud’s lips when they made—when they had sex. _That’s all it was,_ he convinced himself, even though he knew better. He just had to prevent himself from pining over an alternate reality.

He was General Sephiroth, the Silver Demon, Hero of the Wutai War, the Calamity’s Chosen Son – He didn’t _pine_. Not for Cloud Strife. Not for anyone.

_I’m such a bad liar, I can’t even fool myself,_ thought Sephiroth after several moments. He covered his face with his good hand and took a few deep breaths to get himself under control. The untapped emotions had started to shift, demand their part in his life even though he’d suppressed most of them fairly well. Anger had a field day with him once. Nothing else was going to control him like that again.

So wrapped up was he in his mental reverie that he barely heard Cloud open the door once more. He immediately picked up the scent of green tea and a turkey sandwich with mustard.

_Tangible senses. Reality. Focus on what you have, not what you want,_ thought Sephiroth as he began to sit up again.

Cloud stood near the door with a tray balanced on one arm. “Did I wake you?” he asked, the concern on his face and in his tone genuine. It was becoming too much.

“I wasn’t asleep,” snapped Sephiroth. The unbidden anger in his voice made Cloud tense up and the concern in his eyes replaced with that fierce glower that Cloud used in combat against him. _Good._ _Keep him on his guard,_ Sephiroth thought to himself.

Cloud crossed the room and dropped tray of food into his lap. Some of the tea sloshed onto the melamine platter as Sephiroth caught it one handed. “You’re welcome,” grumbled Cloud. He turned away and plopped himself into the small chair provided in the corner. His elbows went to his knees and his hands propped up his chin. He was a coiled spring, ready to pop at Sephiroth’s provocation.

“ _Thank you,_ ” replied Sephiroth. Now that he knew Cloud’s patience had a limit, he would make sure he stretched it thin. He could change without having to play nice. It was appeared to him that Cloud bided his time, awaited when Sephiroth would show his true colors.

“Just eat,” said Cloud after a moment. His posture changed now. The tense, ready-to-fight body language waned with a heavy sigh. Cloud sat back and draped his hands in his lap. “I just had another fight with Tifa in the kitchen. She thinks I’m your fucking lapdog. Like you’d really gain control of my head just to have me make you tea and sandwiches.”

Sephiroth had just managed to get the sandwich into one hand – Cloud had assembled it with all the grace of an angry toddler – when he stopped to glance over his meal at Cloud. “It’s a fair argument… on her part. Why wouldn’t I have you make me tea and sandwiches? It would drive everyone else crazy, trying to figure out what it meant.” He sighed and took a bite. _Misdirection. He wasn’t mad with me,_ he said to himself. A small tingle of relief crept into his heart and made it skip a beat.

As he ate, he felt Cloud’s eyes on him. There was something he wanted to ask, but wasn’t. Sephiroth put his sandwich down and sipped at his tea to clear his throat. “Well, what is it?”

Cloud, predictably, jumped upon being called out. “I’m just… this whole day has been fucking weird. Like, you come back in some sort of egg thing, and during the fight, you get some sort of concussion and you want to stop. But I don’t think that’s entirely it – and don’t give me that story about us fighting forever again. There’s something else, I know it.”

Sephiroth sipped at his tea again. “What would it matter if there was? I’m under no obligation to tell you anything,” he reminded Cloud. He put down his cup and started on the sandwich again.

Cloud let out a frustrated growl. “It matters because I’m trying to figure this out. Trying to figure _you_ out.” He slumped in his seat, one arm slung over the back and his legs sprawled before him. “When I said I’m gonna be responsible for you, I don’t just mean on this airship,” he said. “I’m gonna take care… of things.”

Sephiroth looked up at him and swallowed the bite of sandwich in is throat. It felt like he was swallowing a boulder. “You needn’t take care of me. I can-“

“- _not_ take care of yourself. Not in the way you used to. There’s no ShinRa, no military. Anybody alive who remembers you is going to try to kill you, and I won’t let you defend yourself – because you’re a juggernaut when you fight, and I’m the only person who’s be able to stop you. So, while you can take care of yourself in a fight, you have _no_ clue what being a civilian is like.”

Cloud’s words had Sephiroth in a trap. He was absolutely right, and as an enemy of the Planet, he wouldn’t be able to simply start a fresh life like anyone else. People would recognize him, and Sephiroth would slay anyone who tried to punish him. There was no way around it.

“Very well. What do you propose I do, then?” asked Sephiroth.

Cloud shrugged; that gesture quickly became Sephiroth’s least-liked movement. “Find a hobby?” After Sephiroth just quirked a brow at Cloud, the blond flailed his arms. “I don’t mean like ‘take up scrapbooking’ or an art class, just… was there anything Shinra taught you that wasn’t combat related?”

Sephiroth blinked and looked at his plate. “I was given puzzles and strategy games to ensure my mind was sharp.”

Cloud rubbed at his face with both hands. “Okay, that’s… good.”

“Cloud, let’s not do this now. To say we’ve both had a long day is a vast understatement.” Sephiroth stood with his plate and handed it over to Cloud, the sandwich gone. “Thank you for the food. I would tend to this myself but I don’t know the ship and I don’t desire to rattle your friends’ cages anymore than I have.”

Cloud took the plate from Sephiroth’s hands with a startled look. “Oh, right, yeah… We’ve got bigger things on our plate,” he said as he stood to take the plate back to the kitchen.

“You don’t need to include yourself in my problems, Cloud. I am capabl-“

“That’s just it, though. Your problems are gonna _be_ my problems until you get sorted out,” interrupted Cloud. He hefted the plate in both hands before he concluded, “So stop trying to exclude me. That might have worked back when you were the General, but now you’re not even that. You’re Sephiroth, the civilian.” He turned toward the room’s door and settled a hand on it. He laughed before he added: “And probably going to end up my roommate when Tifa kicks me out.”

Sephiroth started to ask “why” to Cloud but he left the room before Sephiroth had the chance to finish his sentence. Instead, he just sat back on the bed. After a few minutes of silence, Sephiroth laid himself down and put his back to the door again.

Cloud was gone for much longer the second time, but when he came back, he was as quiet as he could make himself. Sephiroth heard him cross the room and stop at the edge of the bed; he assumed Cloud was checking to see if he was awake.

Indeed, Sephiroth did lie still with his eyes closed, but he was aware. He felt the bed shift slightly with Cloud’s weight. Normally, such an invasion of personal space would have “awakened” Sephiroth and he would have thrown Cloud across the room, but Sephiroth was curious as to Cloud’s intent.

Cloud’s weight shifted closer and a moment later, Sephiroth felt Cloud touch his hair, as lightly as he probably thought he could get away with. Cloud gingerly ran his fingers though Sephiroth’s long hair and carefully pulled the bangs away from his face. Sephiroth heard Cloud sigh above him, then felt Cloud move back, his weight just come to rest on the edge of the bed.

“You can stop pretending to sleep, now,” said Cloud.

Sephiroth huffed and rolled onto his back. “I was curious. Touching my hair was… interesting?” he asked.

Cloud tilted his head to one side. “I kind of expected you to break my wrist or something. Maybe I was curious, too.”

“You wanted to know if my hair really was as soft and silky as the rumors said?” teased Sephiroth, a smirk on his lips. “For the record, I have never used an entire bottle of shampoo _or_ conditioner in one shower. A week, maybe, but not a single shower.”

Cloud clapped his palm over his eyes. “Oh god, that stupid fanclub. Zack signed me up for their emails. I was a little freaked out that they offered rewards of candid photographs of you. That’s just…”

“An invasion of privacy?”

“I was going to say ‘creepy,’ but yeah.”

Sephiroth sat up a little. “Whom do you think supplied the photographs? Who would have been that close to me, hmm?” He flinched and flopped back again when his dislocated shoulder failed to support him for very long. “Hojo. I suspected that he was the club founder, if only for his own amusement.”

Cloud made a face and a noise like he’d just swallowed an entire TouchMe. “Eaugh! That’s extra gross… he was you father! I think…”

Sephiroth huffed and looked to the metal ceiling. “If he was, then I hope you slew him when you had the chance.”

“Damn right I did,” said Cloud. He still sat on the edge of the bed as Sephiroth had yet to tell him to leave. “You think you’re healed enough to pop the joint back in?”

Sephiroth frowned. “Doubtful. I think you split my clavicle as well. The joint may not be… accepting.”

“…sorry.”

Sephiroth turned his head and looked up at Cloud. “You seem rather accepting of this whole… arrangement. I doubt you trust me, but-“

“That’s just it, I don’t trust you, but I want to believe it’s over,” Cloud cut in. Sephiroth pursed his lips at the interruption, but waited for Cloud to finish. “I need closure, Sephiroth. I need to know it’s over.”

Sephiroth closed his eyes a moment and turned his head so he faced the ceiling again. “For as long as I can take it.” He paused and opened his eyes. “There was… more than just a simple vision of a never-ending fight, but I’m not ready to share that with you.” He glanced at Cloud from the corner of his eye. “I’m still not certain if it was real, or if my mind has gone completely…” he hesitated as he fished around for the proper term. “Crazy” was improper and failed to convey how he felt. “’Round the bend,’ as some might say.” Another pause. “It was… a good dream.”

“You had a dream?” Cloud sounded genuinely surprised. “Not just a mission, huh?”

Sephiroth moved in the bed, discomfited by the tone of their conversation. “Either lie with me or get off the bed. I don’t like talking up at you.”

“Pfft, welcome to my world,” chuckled Cloud, but he did as Sephiroth suggested and laid beside him.

Several moments passed in silence this way, the two just laid out side by side and looking at each other before Sephiroth turned again, his back to Cloud. “I’m going to get some rest while I can. Tomorrow is not going to be… _fun._ I’ll also need you to help relocate my shoulder when it’s healed. I could do it myself, but I might dent Highwind’s precious ship.”

Cloud snorted and shifted on the bed. Sephiroth thought that he might move away since he had really ended their conversation. Instead, Cloud just kicked off his boots and laid there, right beside him, sharing one of two rather overstuffed pillows.

“What do you think you’re doing?” murmured Sephiroth. He turned just enough to look over his shoulder at Cloud, but Cloud just smirked at him.

“This way, if you get up, you can’t do it without having to climb over me.”

“You’re aware I could still roll over you and get away before you realized what was happening.”

Cloud chuckled and clapped a hand on the back of Sephiroth’s bad shoulder. “And go where, really?”

Sephiroth grunted at the slap of Cloud’s hand but had nothing to argue with. “Very well, but if you cuddle up to me in the night, I want no accusations of—aaaah…” Sephiroth was cut off when Cloud moved his hand to the back of Sephiroth’s neck, where his hair had fallen to the side and left it bare. “Wh-what are you doing?”

A laugh could be heard in Cloud’s voice as he replied, “I sometimes wondered about how heavy all that hair has to be.” Cloud framed the top of Sephiroth’s spine, the back of his neck, with the knuckles of his index and middle fingers. The digits straddled his neck and Cloud worked his fingers into the muscle.

Sephiroth squeezed his eyes tight and reflexively arched his back to push himself closer to Cloud’s hand. He bit his bottom lip to stifle a groan and still managed to make a strangled sound. Cloud seemed to pick up on it and turned his hand to knead at the base of his skull with his thumb.

“I take it nobody has really massaged this area for you,” said Cloud. Sephiroth detected a note of smugness in his voice as he continued. “Do you want me to stop?”

Sephiroth grunted and reached his shaky left hand up as best he could in an attempt to stop Cloud himself, however, he just flopped against the mattress with another groan. Cloud had put both hands into it now and worked the muscles at the base of his neck.

“I really hate you,” groaned Sephiroth. The truth was that yes, his hair was heavy and _no_ , no one ever did massage it for him. No one was ever so bold as Cloud to touch him unless they were medical staff – and that was their job. Sephiroth himself had cultivated an air of aggression: One merely had to stay outside of his personal reach to be considered safe. “I should…ahn… I should have your hand for this.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little soon for marriage?” teased Cloud as he continued to knead Sephiroth’s neck.

Sephiroth tensed up. “Wh-what?” He felt cold all of a sudden.

Cloud seemed to not catch his meaning. “You said ‘have my hand.’ I know you meant ‘cut it off’ but apparently my jokes suck.”

“Oh…” Sephiroth cleared his throat. “Yes, they do,” he said quietly.

Cloud moved his weight entierly and moved toward the middle of the bed. It made Sephiroth roll into the middle with the bed’s spring system strained under the collective weight in the center. Cloud leaned into Sephiroth’s line of sight. “Now I don’t know if I should be worried… or concerned.”

Sephiroth licked his lips and parted them to speak, but found the strange analogy had him stymied for a moment. “There’s a difference?”

“If I was worried, I’d be afraid that you were going to lose it again and kill everybody on this ship.” Cloud tilted his head and shrugged one shoulder. “Being concerned is me wondering what’s bothering you because you don’t talk to anyone. Which would have me worried because that’s what started everything.”

Sephiroth snorted and pushed himself as close to the wall as he could to get away from Cloud. “You’re _concerned_ that I’m not sharing my feelings. I know that you shared nothing with Tifa in regards to your Geostigma. And you actually _like_ her. I don’t wish to pretend you care about me.” He stared at the wall’s brushed metal pattern for as long as he could while Cloud remained silent beside him for several minutes.

“Once again, Sephiroth, you’re wrong,” said Cloud. “I’m sure you remember our last fight, the one a few years ago, anyway. I told you then, there isn’t anything I don’t cherish.”

“Cloud, stop…” Sephiroth felt mentally exhausted. _If I had known he would be this taxing…_ he thought.

“No. You’re the reason I tried to make myself stronger, you’re the reason I joined ShinRa even though that took me hundreds of miles from home. And even if the first time I met you turned out to be the worst day of my life... even that miserable drive up the mountain meant so much to me.”

“And then I dashed all your dreams,” said Sephiroth as he tried to force as much boredom into his words as he could to make Cloud upset so he’d drop the conversation. Instead, Sephiroth found himself being violently pulled onto his back with Cloud sitting on his legs.

“Yeah, you broke my heart. You were my hero and it turned out you were just as fucked up as the rest of us, but since you’re _Sephiroth,_ you have to excel at that too. Most people who discovered they have a shitty past go to a bar, not burn down a town.” Cloud shoved on Sephiroth’s chest with both hands, making him grunt.

“Cloud-“

“I’m not done.” Cloud glared at him with heat in his eyes, but they began to water. “Because of you, because I _beat_ you, Hojo found me interesting enough to torment for four years until I broke. Because of you, good people died. Because of you, Aerith is gone. Because… because you couldn’t let anyone in. Why?” Cloud’s face was blotchy and pink, and he scrubbed one hand over his eyes. It just made his face wet with the tears he smeared in.

Sephiroth slowly drew in a breath, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled. “ _Because_ I had lost the few people I could trust. Zack was the last one, but then…” Sephiroth shook his head. “What happened to me doesn’t matter. I failed to maintain myself, I allowed doubt and betrayal to defeat me after _years_ of going without another person to talk to. Zack was the closest I had to a friend by then, but I was willing to let him go. He seemed fond of you, and you seemed much more receptive to his… to him. When I discovered the conditions of my birth, it seemed appropriate that I discover I am a _monster_ , and I find it strange that you might disagree.”

Cloud snorted and sat back, his rear on Sephiroth’s knees. “No, Sephiroth. As much as it might suck for you, you’re human. A mutated experiment of a human, but still a human. You’ve got a lot of strange shit on your side with Jenova, but-“

“I don’t think Jenova’s on my side this time,” interrupted Sephiroth. Cloud just stared at him and he decided he could elaborate a little. “I don’t hear her. Everything I experienced in my… dream, was because of the—because of Aerith.”

“Yeah, you said that, and I don’t get it. Why would she help you?”

Sephiroth covered his face with his right hand and grumbled, “I have no idea.” He moved his hand just enough so he could peer out from beneath his palm and see Cloud. “Probably just to make things easier on you. I would take out an enemy if my ally was under threat with no other course of action to rid myself of him.” Paused a moment, Sephiroth pushed himself up with his right hand, enough to get a little closer to Cloud. “May I please rest now?” he asked. “Without you sitting on me, preferably.”

Cloud looked down at where he had parked his rear end and up again. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

Sephiroth sneered and rolled his eyes. “Cloud…”

The blond just chuckled and held his hands up. “Right, right. You’re tired,” he said. Cloud climbed off of Sephiroth’s legs and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his own armor and belts. “Is it okay if I stay up here?” he asked.

Sephiroth had just laid back down when Clou’s question came at him. “Do as you like, just do so quietly. If you snore, I’m kicking you off.”

“…I don’t snore.”

“Then we won’t have a problem,” said Sephiroth. He felt Cloud lay beside him again, their backs to one another. Sephiroth let out a small sigh of relief. If Cloud had cuddled up to him, Sephiroth would have opted for the floor himself.


	4. Things

The first thing Cloud felt when he woke up was heat. Warm, heavy and thick, like Nanaki had crawled into bed with him and stayed there all night. He started to stir and push at the weight on his chest, imagining the great fire-cat still asleep or purring away as he was wont to do. Instead of a disturbed growl and a mumbled apology, Cloud’s ears were treated to a throaty groan and an arm clamped around his waist.

Cloud’s eyes shot open when he remembered where and when he was; Sephiroth had allowed him to stay on the bed the night before, and had apparently rolled over in the night despite his injured arm. Sephiroth’s silver mane blocked most of Cloud’s view, settled comfortably on his chest. In fact, it felt like Sephiroth lay on his stomach as a living blanket to Cloud – it certainly explained the warmth, though that surprised Cloud. He had always envisioned Sephiroth to be quite cold.

“Sephiroth.” Cloud received a grunt in reply. “Sephiroth,” said Cloud again. He grabbed a strand of silver and tugged lightly on it; Sephiroth just shook his head and burrowed deeper against Cloud’s chest. Cloud’s accelerated heartrate should have alerted Sephiroth by now, but the larger man appeared comfortable where he lay.

Cloud sighed and dropped his head back against the pillow, resigned, for the moment, to remain a pillow to his former archenemy. He felt a little helpless. Sephiroth was around 300 pounds of sculpted muscle that turned into solidly dead weight when he was asleep. For him to be _that_ deep, however, Sephiroth must have been exhausted. It made Cloud feel a little guilty for how he had dug into him with words the night before. Only a little, however, as his right arm tingled from suppressed blood flow.

Underneath Sephiroth’s torso, Cloud wriggled his numb hand, fingers up against Sephiroth’s stomach. The small movements seemed to do the trick; Sephiroth twitched and moved his head and his arm squeezed around Cloud’s waist. Cloud, meanwhile, felt his face heat up from the knowledge that Sephiroth was an aggressive cuddler.

However, Cloud’s hand was still trapped and he needed out from under Sephiroth. “Dammit, Sephiroth, wake up or I’m going to pee on you.”

_That_ elicited a better response. Sephiroth lifted his head, a small pink line – a mirror copy of Cloud’s shirt zipper – pressed into his cheek. “What?”

“Get off of me. You weigh a ton.”

Sephiroth groaned and rolled away from Cloud, his back to the room again like he wasn’t just huddled up to his nemesis. Cloud stared at Sephiroth’s back for several moments before the call of nature won and he left the room. He darted down the hall to the bathroom and did his business, which included a splash of water on the face while he processed how he’d woken up. _Sephiroth clinging to me like that… the hell…_

Cloud was just about to leave the bathroom when he opened the door and nearly had a heart attack on the spot. Sephiroth leaned against the door frame, his right arm held his weight and kept him from tumbling straight into Cloud. Slightly disheveled and seeming disoriented from just waking up, Sephiroth stared down at Cloud until the blond realized he had stared right back.

“Move,” grunted Sephiroth, and Cloud ducked under his arm to escape.

Cloud stood in the hall outside the bathroom and felt his heartrate come back down to a suitable level. He could hear Sephiroth on the other side of the door, who eventually called out, “I don’t need you listening, Cloud. I can work a toilet like a big boy.”

“Uh, yeah, right, I’m gonna go to the mess and grab something to eat. Kitchen, not mess. Kitchen,” sputtered Cloud. His head began to hurt. _It’s way too early for this,_ thought Cloud, though a quick check of his phone indicated that it was after ten in the morning.

Sephiroth grunted something in the affirmative and Cloud turned around and walked away from the bathroom door, very, very quickly.

Once he got to the kitchen, Cloud slumped against the counter and pressed his head into the wood countertop. “What the fuck is my life?” he grumbled to himself, or so he thought. A hand patted his back in sympathy. That didn’t stop him from the jolt that nearly strained his neck as he pulled back from the sudden touch.

“Didn’t get much sleep?” It was Tifa, who gave him a pitying look. “You’re extra jumpy today.”

“Sephiroth just startled me in the hallway. And before that in the room.”

Tifa hopped up on the counter near where he’d leaned and sat. “You mean, aside from the fact that he’s alive and you’re taking care of him?”

“Ti, don’t start…” groaned Cloud. He leaned forward and rested his head against Tifa’s chest. She put her arms around his shoulders and rubbed his back soothingly. “I can’t figure him out. He’s definitely… different, than before.”

“This isn’t your latent hero-worship talking, is it?” Tifa moved her hands up and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I remember a little boy with a few magazines…”

Cloud groaned and pulled away from Tifa to rummage in Cid’s fridge. “It’s not… or maybe it is… I don’t know. He’s certainly… something.”

“What do you think?” asked Tifa.

Cloud turned and put a carton of eggs on the counter beside her. “Are you gonna be angry with me while I figure this out?”

“I’m always angry with you,” she replied with a small smile. “Because you’re a knucklehead, but you’re my knucklehead, so I what does that say about me?”

Cloud snorted and hugged Tifa again. “You’ve got issues. I’ve got subscriptions. Collector’s Editions. Limited release pressings of issues.” He groaned quietly and pressed a little closer, his cheek against her chest, his eyes closed.

Tifa giggled and rubbed her fingers over his scalp and combed through his messy spikes. “It’s what makes you, you. The fact that you’ve gone through so much and still try to do good says a lot about you, you know. Even if you tend to be kind of gloomy sometimes.” Tifa bowed her head and kissed his temple, which made Cloud smile. “If you think you need to be there for him, I support you. But you’re not doing it in my house.”

Cloud lifted his head and looked up her. He put on his best pout and batted his eyelashes. “No?”

Tifa laughed and pushed him off of her. “No, you dork.” She slid off the counter and picked up the carton of eggs. “You need help feeding his high-and-mighty-ass?”

Cloud chuckled and shook his head. “I think I can manage scrambled eggs and toast. I’d hate to think how he’ll be when his full SOLDIER appetite kicks in though. Zack used to eat like a racing Chocobo. I’d hate to think what Sephiroth could consume.”

“That’s going to be the other reason he’s not staying. I can feed myself, Denzel and Marlene, and you whenever you remember to eat. But I think he’d eat me out of house and home.” Tifa opened the carton and toyed with an egg; whenever Tifa did something like this, Cloud expected an interrogation.

“Okay, what is it?” he finally asked as he plucked the egg from her hands and cracked it into a bowl with three more.

“First of all, what happened between last night and this morning. Second of all, why are you torturing yourself?” asked Tifa.

Cloud sighed heavily and closed his eyes. It occurred to him that he imitated Sephiroth’s pauses for time and he blew a breath out of his mouth. “Why is still coming to me, Ti. I’m trying to work it out, but I think… I think Aerith has something to do with all of this. He kept bringing her up, and there’s something about _that_ that he’s not sharing, but hell if I can get a word out of him when he clams up. Last night, we just… talked. Argued a little, but it wasn’t anything… Planet-shattering. I tried getting aggressive with him, accusatory, all kinda childish in retrospect, but I _was_ just a kid when he lost his mind.”

Tifa nodded and leaned on the counter beside Cid’s tiny stove. She waited until Cloud had poured the egg mixture into a bowl before she pressed for more. “Yeah, and did you remind him that he murdered our respective parents? That he left scars that he’s still paying for?”

Cloud nodded a few times as she carried on. “Yeah, I did. He just… took it. Like he expected me to rip him a new one and didn’t really argue back.” Cloud stirred the eggs and watched them sizzle in the pan. “It… he… he feels like the man he should have been, or at least the man he was. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Tifa folded her arms across her chest and frowned. “And you’re certain this isn’t-“

“Goddamnit, Tifa, it’s not hero-worship.” Cloud turned to glare at his best friend. “That ship sailed a long time ago, when he burned down Nibelheim. Now… I don’t know what to think, but badgering me isn’t going to help me solve it any faster. I don’t know why he’s back and I don’t think it really has anything to do with Jenova.”

Tifa’s expression lightened and she reached out to touch him, but Cloud just looked away. He took out his aggression on the eggs, flipping them before they burnt to the pan. Egg and butter splattered with a hiss and nearly stung his hand.

“Cloud…” Tifa settled her hand on his shoulder lightly; She was the strongest woman he’d ever met and the best martial artist on the Planet and could still touch him as gently as a feather. Cloud envied her personal control. Even if she had socked Sephiroth in the jaw the day before, it was justified.

“Cloud, look at me,” she tried again. Cloud finally did turn her way and the heat of his gaze had faded into a lost look. “Whatever it is, you know I have your back. I just don’t want _him_ near me.”

“I understand. I don’t really know what I can do about him though. Anybody old enough is gonna remember his face. Anybody _stupid_ enough is going to try to attack him. Even without his weapon, he’s still pretty deadly.” Cloud put the eggs all onto one plate; the conversation had soured his appetite. He stared at the plate and just shook his head. “Ti, I don’t know what to do,” he said miserably.

Tifa put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “Just trust your gut. You know who you are now, and who you’ll always be. You’re Cloud.” She tilted her head and gave him a quick, light peck on the lips. “You can handle Sephiroth.”

Cloud drew in a deep breath, very deep, and nodded again, mostly for his own reassurance. “You’re right. He’s nothing I haven’t handled before.” He leaned in and gave Tifa a kiss in return, just as light and quick. “Maybe I should have married you.”

Tifa snorted and pushed on his chest. “Only if you wore the dress!” she teased warmly. “I want a pink tuxedo.”

Cloud laughed and picked up the plate of eggs – he had forgotten about toast but they’d be leaving the ship soon enough as it was – and stepped out of her reach. “You know I look good in a dress.”

“You look awful in white. Go, feed the beast and tell him he’s gonna be laying in my truck bed if he wants to get into Edge peacefully,” said Tifa as she waved him off.

Spirits lifted by Tifa’s presence and the knowledge that she held no grudge against Cloud personally, he headed back to the room he had left Sephiroth in. As he opened the door, he felt his lift in mood begin to sink again as he looked across to see Sephiroth seated on the bed.

Instead of waiting, Sephiroth had decided to unwrap himself, the gauze and ace bandages dropped in a pile at his feet. Where he could see the sutures Cloud had sewn, Sephiroth had pulled them apart. His skin had healed in the night, but the whole area was still a tender red and grew darker as he plucked and _bit_ the sutures in his attempts to remove them.

“Are you just incredibly stupid or pretending to be?” chastised Cloud as he crossed the room. “Here, you eat first and _I’ll_ finish this,” finished Cloud as he gestured to the mess Sephiroth made of his shoulder.

“I don’t need you to play nurse to me, Strife,” growled Sephiroth. He snagged the plate from Cloud to balance it on his knee as he began to eat like the eggs had personally offended him. “Only eggs?” he added with a sneer.

“You’re lucky you got anything,” snapped Cloud, affected by Sephiroth’s irritated mood. “Cid’s not gonna be happy with me as it is for feeding you and wasting his medical supplies. So shut up and eat while I fix whatever you did to yourself.” Sephiroth grumbled incoherently around his fork, but Cloud was certain that Sephiroth had insulted him anyway.

“I don’t know what got into you between waking up and my coming back here, but you should consider yourself lucky that Cid didn’t have you dumped in the middle of the North Sea in the night. Hell, I’m not sure why I didn’t do it myself,” said Cloud. _Don’t let him get to you,_ he had to remind himself as he began to inspect Sephiroth’s shoulder. “Did you seriously bite through the sutures?”

“My teeth are strong enough to. I learned that fact when Hojo would use non-degradable wire to patch me up after a monster exam,” replied Sephiroth. “He’d conveniently forget it just to monitor what metals affected me.”

Cloud straightened up at the mention of Hojo using metal instead of regular medical sutures. “That’s just fucked up,” he muttered.

“Understatement.”

Cloud delicately pulled at the sutures already damaged by Sephiroth’s tugging; some had torn his skin where he’d not pulled enough and had started to scab. “Sephiroth… why did you do this? You knew I was coming back…” he sighed. Sephiroth gave no response and just kept eating.

“For that matter, what’s with the pissy mood?” asked Cloud as he pulled out what was the worst of the damage. He made a mental note to bandage Sephiroth back up after he relocated his shoulder. “You, of all people, I’d think would be a morning person.”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and refused to look at Cloud directly. Cloud was not going to have it. He took Sephiroth by the jaw and turned his head up. Sephiroth closed his eyes.

“Are you seriously going to play bratty teenager with me? Because I’ve got a boy back home going through puberty who would put your performance to shame,” said Cloud. He released Sephiroth’s jaw and stooped to pick up the bandages.

“You have a son?” asked Sephiroth, so quietly that Cloud nearly missed it.

_At least he’s talking…_ “Yes, well… unofficially. He lives with Tifa and me at Seventh Heaven in Edge. He’s an orphan.” Cloud stood up again and piled the bandages on the small bedside stand. “So, are you going to tell me what the attitude is about, or are you just going to play the silent game with me?”

Sephiroth hesitated – which was new – before he answered. “I was comfortable this morning. I can only assume it was because your body heat attracted me like a moth to fire.” He stared straight forward while he answered, his eyes on the door across the room.

“That is total bullshit but I don’t think I’ll get a real answer out of you, so… you know what? Fine. Keep your secrets, if it makes you feel better.” Cloud moved away to sit on the chair by the door. “But I told you last night, I’m gonna try to help you. But that requires a little _give_ on your part.”

Sephiroth shifted his gaze slightly and looked Cloud right in the eye. “I had a pleasant dream. Waking up to the realization that none of it was true was… it affected my mood.”

Cloud raised a brow and leaned back, arms folded over his chest. “A pleasant dream, huh? Maybe one that consisted of needing to snuggle me?”

Sephiroth just cleared his throat and his gaze darted away. “You were a real world substitute for a dream-like partner,” he said, so rigidly it sounded like he read it off a script.

Cloud leaned forward then, his arms propped up on his knees. “A dream-like partner, hmm? Male or female? Not that it makes a difference to me, I’m not gonna judg-“

“Male,” said Sephiroth, his gaze on the floor instead of Cloud’s face.

“Okay. So you’re gay. Or bisexual. Or asexual and a cuddler, whatever. I _really_ hope you don’t think I was going to make fun of you for your orientation.” Cloud felt a smirk grow on his lips as he imagined Sephiroth might find some sort of relief in “coming out” to someone. “I’d kinda be a hypocrite.”

Either Sephiroth didn’t hear or ignored the last thing Cloud had said; he carried on instead with, “I’m not certain what I am. Does that make a difference?” He held himself rigidly; it reminded Cloud of the many times he’d had talks with Denzel, who had been afraid of punishment for a long time until he grew comfortable. Sephiroth’s uncertainty with his orientation struck Cloud for a moment.

“It doesn’t really matter to me. But it begs the question: did you ever date?” asked Cloud. Sephiroth looked at him with a silent glare, asking “are you serious” with just the heat of his irritated gaze. “I’m serious! I meant what I said last night. You’re a very handsome man. And with your popularity, you would have had a hard time finding someone who’d turn you down.”

Sephiroth groaned miserably and shook his head. “With my obligations, Cloud, and the President breathing down my neck, do you honestly think I could have found the time? With said popularity, don’t you think I’d be all over every paper if I had?”

“ShinRa controlled the papers. They probably would have billed any partner you had as a ‘budding whirlwind romance,’” said Cloud. He held his hands up for effect to frame the words. “General Sephiroth takes lucky lover on date to Golden Saucer! Seen canoodling in a gondola with mystery lover!”

“Canoodling?” echoed Sephiroth. He smirked a bit; Cloud counted that as a win since he really did lay it on thick to be funny. “I have never… _canoodled_ in my life.”

Cloud started to laugh. “I want to hear you say ‘canoodling’ again.”

“Honestly, Cloud, where did you come up with such a story anyway?” asked Sephiroth. Cloud pouted that he wasn’t going to be indulged further on the “canoodling” front but made another mental note to make him say it again later.

“Tabloids eat that shit up. If you had dated anyone, even with ShinRa in control, they would have made any part of the story sound extra romantic, regardless of who it was with.” Cloud didn’t even fight his grin now. “And your fanclub would have probably wept bitterly at the idea that you were taken.”

That actually seemed to do the trick; Sephiroth chuckled quietly and looked to the side, but his head didn’t stay turned away for long. He lifted his left arm and looked over to Cloud. “You think you could help me with this?”

Cloud smiled and stood up. “Gladly. Just wait here.” Cloud crossed the room and took Sephiroth’s empty plate with him and left the man once more. He made sure to double-time it back to the room the next round, as they were close to Edge and would have to depart soon.

Sephiroth made no protests or complaints as Cloud worked on his shoulder. He plucked out the sutures and gently cleaned the red marks with saline, massaged antibiotic ointment over the affected area and wrapped him up. Cloud noticed that he also didn’t seem to shy away or tense up as much as he had the night before. When Cloud was done, they worked together to relocate the joint. It made an ugly “pop” noise as it connected again, to the point where Sephiroth did flinch, but he appeared glad to have function back in his hand again.

“Thank you, Cloud.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he replied as he gave Sephiroth a once-over to make sure everything seemed to be back in place.  He handed over Sephiroth’s belts so he could get them back on. “Tifa says you have to hide in her truck bed until we get to the bar. She can cover you with a tarp – we’ll just have to smuggle you in the back entrance.” Cloud picked up Sephiroth’s heavy coat and helped him into it. “Probably have to sew that back up too…” he mused.

Sephiroth looked down at the torn shoulder of his coat and shook his head. “Perhaps it’s for the best. Like Masamune, the coat is a symbol of who I… am. If I’m to… assimilate into civilian life, leaving these things behind may help.”

Cloud looked up at Sephiroth, a little surprised that he would think that way. “Well, yeah, I mean, you’re gonna need a change of clothes anyway. And that, unfortunately for you, means investing in a shirt.”

Sephiroth smirked and rolled his eyes. “I did own shirts when I was with ShinRa. You simply did not see them. The coat was my signature.”

“How come you never wear a shirt anyway? I’d think the leather would…” Cloud gestured at his chest, hands hovered over where his own nipples were. “Chafe.”

Another smirk from Sephiroth and a small laugh. “Hah, you’d be surprised. This coat is a treated leather. Usually able to stand up to _most_ assaults. However, as a treated material, it was also incredibly warm. And comfortable.” He paused before he added, “And having my chest exposed was something of my bragging. The President loved the idea, and it became general orders that I was not to be photographed with a shirt.” He seated himself back on the bed and began to pull on his boots.

Cloud clapped his hands together. “I _knew_ you were showing off! You were daring people to try to get a blade in there, weren’t you?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” asked Sephiroth. Cloud was just happy that he’d been right all along, a smile on his face. Sephiroth chuckled at his expression. “Of course I was. I have skills that very few people have been able to match. A little exposed skin goes a long way in provoking an enemy assault. Being pale as I am makes it an easy, predictable target.”

Cloud nodded along and rocked back on his heels. He felt righteously vindicated for his younger self; as a boy, he’d come up with a thousand and one theories as to how Sephiroth-of-the-day had operated, and to know he was right put an old question to bed. “Good to know. And good to hear that I’m one of those ‘few people’ who has been able to match your skills,” he added with no small amount of pride.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and bowed his head in acknowledgment. “I should have said that you are the only person to do so. But I never had a support network like yours.”

That made Cloud pause. Sephiroth conceded to Cloud’s skills… and to the fact that he had never really had any victories alone. He had a lot of friends who cared about him, and he knew that there was so much of his victories that could be attributed to them, whether they were in battle or just in life. “Y-yeah… they’re my family,” he said, voice choked with a bit of emotion.

Something in that statement made Sephiroth pause as he buckled his boots around the tops of his thighs, but he didn’t offer anything else on the subject. Cloud chalked it up to Sephiroth’s past loneliness, and whatever “good dream” he’d had that morning.

“Look, Sephiroth-“ began Cloud. He reached out with a hand to rest on Sephiroth’s shoulder.

“We should get to the cargo hold,” interrupted Sephiroth as he stood. “Wouldn’t want to upset your pilot friend anymore by extending my stay for longer than necessary.”

Cloud dropped his hand and nodded. “All right…” he said. _Why does that brush off feel worse than it really is?_ he asked himself after he’d gathered his own things to follow Sephiroth to the lower levels.

In the cargo bay, Tifa was already there, seated in her truck. “I figure since you’re gonna be back there, you can unlatch my truck when we land,” she said to Cloud. She only gave Sephiroth a momentary glance as he hopped into the truck bed without further comment.

“Everything okay?” asked Tifa from her driver’s seat.

Cloud leaned against the door and looked up to Tifa. “He was kind of aggressive when I went back,” he said softly. “There’s something… off. I mean, different off… more than usual.” He gestured with a turn of his hand as he fished for a better explanation. “You’re not kicking me out as soon as we get back, right?”

Tifa leaned over the door and out through the window. Above them, the warning sounds that the _Shera_ was landing bean to ring. “Of course not. He can take the basement couch until you get him sorted with an apartment or something. I’ll give you… a month.”

Cloud raised both eyebrows and smiled to his friend. “You’re a good woman, Tifa,” he said.

“Hey, don’t get too sentimental. If he’s not out at the end of the month, you’re both homeless,” she said with a grin. “So don’t thank me yet.”

“Too late,” said Cloud. He pushed up on his toes and planted a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You’re a peach.”

“And you’re a nut.” Tifa leaned back into her seat as Cloud headed to the back. He held onto the truck as the ship made its final drop onto the Grasslands just outside of Edge, then he began to unstrap the tires from Cid’s safety locks. Above him, Sephiroth just watched Cloud work.

“Gil for your thoughts,” said Cloud after a few minutes of being stared at.

“You and Miss Lockhart are still very close, I see.”

Cloud smiled and shrugged. “Well, when you live through the end of the world a few times, you kind of get to know someone.” He stood up when the last tire was freed and reached over the side of the truck bed to pull Tifa’s tarp out of her tool box. “Hopefully it won’t take that again for you to get close to someone.”

Sephiroth looked away from him – and really, Cloud was going to have to break him of that habit someday soon – before he responded with, “If anyone would get near me.”

Cloud huffed and unfolded the tarp. “I’m sure someone could. I bet there’s a lot of girls,” he paused and amended, “or guys, or either, who would look beyond your past and see you for you. If there’s a ‘you’ to see,” he added. “But that’s on you to decide, if you really want to let someone in.”

“C’mon, Cloud, Denzel’s probably dealing with the lunch rush and I’d really like to be there before it’s over,” said Tifa from the front.

“Right, right, sorry.” Cloud hopped onto the bumper and opened the tarp like he was about to lay down a bedsheet. “Lie back and try to brace yourself on the sides. Some of the roads are pretty rough,” he advised. “We’ll talk more once we get you into Seventh Heaven.”

Sephiroth laid himself back as instructed, careful to not bash his head against the toolbox or anything else Tifa had sitting in the bed. Cloud pushed down the tarp around him and then threw a rope on top of Sephiroth’s shape to _not_ make it look like there was a person underneath.

“That was uncalled for,” grumbled Sephiroth from below the plastic.

Cloud had himself a laugh. “Well, I don’t want it to look like I’m hiding a body. So for now, you’re supplies. And supplies don’t talk.”

“Lovely.”

Cloud chuckled again. “It’ll be worth it. Just relax, we’ll be there in no time,” he promised just before he got into the cab with Tifa. “I’m ready to roll when you are.”

 

The drive back into Edge was quiet an uneventful; it was a warm day so Cloud had the windows open and hoped Sephiroth wasn’t being roasted to death under that tarp. But it was only a twenty minute trip (with traffic being a small issue at one point) before Cloud climbed back out of the cab once they had reached the back of Seventh Heaven.

Sephiroth had not stirred when they stopped. Cloud hopped up and leaned over the side to take a peek under a corner of the tarp.

“Cozy?” he asked. Sephiroth just stared at him. “Oh, right… you can talk now, we’re behind the bar.” He pulled the tarp further off Sephiroth’s head and realized his hair was stuck to his skin. “I guess it was a hotter day than anticipated?” he added sheepishly. “We’ll get you out of here in a second.”

Sephiroth just glared at him; Tifa fumbled at the back door. “How are we supposed to get him in anyway?” she muttered over her shoulder.

Cloud looked back at Sephiroth. “I can carry him.”

“I don’t need Masamune to kill you,” was Sephiroth’s grumbled reply.

Cloud blinked and grinned. “Hey, none of that. You’re going to be a good boy, remember?”

“Somehow, I don’t think this was what Aerith had in mind.”

Cloud hauled himself over the side of the truck bed completely and straddled Sephiroth’s torso with his feet. “Well, I’m sure she’s getting a kick out of it all the same,” he said. “Once more, with the tarp.”

Sephiroth muttered “I hate you” as the sheet was thrown over his face again. Cloud got him wrapped up in the plastic and piled a few tools from Tifa’s truck bed onto Sephiroth’s stomach before he stuck his hands underneath and hefted him up. It was rather easy when Sephiroth wasn’t passed out asleep; he leaned easily into Cloud’s body and that helped alleviate some of the weight.

Just as Cloud managed to get him inside, he heard Denzel call out to him. _Shit, not now…_ he thought as the boy ran up to give him a hug. “Hey… I didn’t know Tifa was making a supply run,” said the boy as he inspected the tarp-and-tool-covered body in Cloud’s arms.

“Um…”

Sephiroth apparently decided that he had had enough for one morning and slid out of Cloud’s hands, Tifa’s tools and other things fell to the floor in a loud clatter. “Not supplies, merely smuggling,” said Sephiroth.

Denzel backed away in shock. “Holy shi—crap. Why are you hiding a guy!?”

Cloud took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, Denzel…”

Tifa heard the commotion and joined the group just inside her back room. “Denzel, why don’t you show me what you’ve taken in for the day so far and we’ll explain it to you in a bit, okay?”

Denzel hesitated. He stared at Sephiroth, and Sephiroth ignored him in favor of getting the debris off of his coat. “You’re gonna tell me who he is. No stories, okay?” said Denzel as he changed his focus to Cloud.

“I promise,” said Cloud. “Just go with Tifa for now while I… get him settled downstairs.”

Denzel still hesitated but finally gave in to Cloud and Tifa’s persistence and headed out to the main room where several patrons were still at their tables.

Cloud took a deep breath and rubbed at the back of his head. “That’s Denzel, as you might have just heard me say…” He put his hands on his waist and puffed out his cheeks with a long breath. “He’s the boy I told you about, the one we sort of unofficially adopted.” Cloud turned to look at Sephiroth, who he thought had been ignoring him as well. Instead, he seemed contemplative.

“The boy is spirited, to say the least. He must have learned it from Miss Lockhart.”

Cloud huffed a laugh and nodded. “Well, he came to us when he was about nine. He’s twelve now, going on ‘little punk.’ But, we love him.”

Sephiroth grew quiet again, so much that Cloud had to look to make sure he was still there. “Hey, don’t worry, we’re pretty good about taking care of strays. Even if they need a little rehabilitation.” He smiled up at Sephiroth in hopes that the former general might realize he was one of them. Cloud just got a blank stare and that damned unreadable expression. “All right then… follow me.” Cloud gestured and headed to a door at the far side of the storage room. “Down here, we’ve kinda got a rec room. It’s got a couch with a fold-out bed and there’s a T.V….” he said.

“I’m going to need three things, Cloud,” replied Sephiroth as they made their way downstairs. “A shower, a change of clothing, and a source for apartment listings. I plan on making my given month here as short as possible.”

Cloud turned around as soon as he hit the basement floor and looked back up at Sephiroth. “Hey, I know you’re probably not comfortable here, and Tifa’s ultimatum is… kinda pressing, but she won’t _really_ kick us both out unless you give her a reason.”

“Killing her father and burning down her hometown isn’t reason enough?” Sephiroth turned away to examine his new, temporary living space. “People have become more forgiving in the last few years.”

Cloud covered his face with both hands and dragged them down with a frustrated grunt. “Look, just don’t be a pain in the ass and try to not be so… blunt. Yes, Tifa still blames you for Nibelheim, and I still have …an issue with you being here, but I, at least, have learned to deal with the shit life gives me. Which that includes you, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth stopped his examination to look back at Cloud. “Ah, yes, you’ve done plenty of ‘dealing’ with me over the years. One more challenge shouldn’t break you.”

Cloud raised his hands like he wanted to strangle Sephiroth but instead balled them into fists and dropped them to his sides. “Look, I know your morning was kind of shitty – my whole yesterday wasn’t too pleasant either. But I am _trying,_ here, which you seem to be against all of a sudden.”

Sephiroth took all of that and watched Cloud with that stone-faced stare down before he replied, “My apologies. I simply do not like being in control of my situation, and that is entirely what is happening here. Everything I’ll need, I won’t be able to obtain on my own. I will be in your debt, which, from the sounds of it, my last has yet to be repaid.” He moved to sit on the couch by the wall. “This is hardly ideal for either of us. I don’t like dependence on another. I’ve found, in the past, that it rarely works in my favor.”

“Well, I’m not like whoever let you down before,” Cloud said. He held his arms up and then dropped them to his sides once more. “I’m always the guy who’s going to surprise you, so you might as well get used to it.”

A small smile appeared on Sephiroth’s lips, much to Cloud’s bewilderment. “Yes, you do surprise me, Cloud.” A pause, then Sephiroth added, “Thank you, both of you, for this.”

Sephiroth’s smile threw Cloud off. It was the second time he had smiled without it chilling Cloud to his core, which was weird in and of itself. Cloud nodded to Sephiroth.

“You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things I am bad at: naming chapters, lol


	5. Only, Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth starts to adjust to living with an established family unit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little time skip forward.

Of all the things Sephiroth learned during his first couple of weeks at Seventh Heaven, many of them were about Cloud and his general relationships with the others in the household. For one thing, Cloud and Tifa had joint custody of Denzel, but as guardians, not as his legal parents. Also, he learned that Denzel absolutely remembered Kadaj, and when they explained who Sephiroth was, Denzel was not above kicking Sephiroth square in the shin and not speaking to Cloud for three days. When he finally did speak to Cloud again, he still gave Sephiroth a wide berth and said very little that wasn’t absolutely necessary.

Sephiroth, for the most part, did not mind being ignored – it was just below being feared on his list of things that irritated him about people, but his mind was trying to reconcile the little boy who avoided him with the brazen teenager who helped little Zack and he build a snowman in his vision. The two versions of Denzel either would never align or it would take a while for them to become the same young man.

What else he learned was that Tifa was a shrewd landlord and demanded he pull his weight – not something Sephiroth was above, except it brought him back to horror stories he’d heard from Zack Fair when he was starting out in the army. Before he had qualified for the SOLDIER program, Zack had to scrub toilets and mop floors and do dishes. Tifa had him play cleaning crew to earn his keep; a generous offer, for all Sephiroth truly deserved, and at least it freed Denzel up to do his homework. Despite her strictness concerning chores and work to be done, she was still a kind woman who gave him a chance, which impressed Sephiroth, considering their history. She was a rather forgiving soul; he had to admire her spirit.

There was a balance, Sephiroth found, even though he felt more like an outsider than ever. The family that took him in had him as a tenant, not quite as a guest. They shared jokes and laughter that went over his head if he joined them at the dinner table. Occasionally, he found Cloud and Denzel shared a language that even had Tifa glance at Sephiroth and shrug; they formed words with their hands that Sephiroth could not distinguish with his own known form of sign language. It was a “street sign,” a language Cloud had picked up from the orphans he knew, and it was entirely separate from basic or military hand signals that Sephiroth knew. It was certainly educational, seeing how a family could operate, even if they were far from conventional.

Cloud was, as always, the most surprising. Sephiroth had gotten the impression that he still languished under the burden of his role as the Planet’s savior, but it had turned out to be a false assumption. Cloud could be moody, but he also smiled and laughed; his smile was small and shy but always genuine around his family. He treated Denzel as an adult, but never demanded he behave like one if the boy put up a fight over something important to him, even if it was as simple as not getting to watch cartoons when he wanted. Cloud and Tifa were nearly a unit; that they hadn’t wed truly did surprise Sephiroth as they were otherwise rather emotionally intimate. He witnessed them have conversations with hardly any words – arguments were equally personal. They touched each other in ways that reminded him of the closeness between Angeal and Genesis.

The few times he was alone with Cloud were, as to be expected, tense. First, there had been the measuring. Sephiroth required clothing, and the only one able to take his measurements was Cloud. Tifa wouldn’t touch him and Denzel wouldn’t look at him. Naturally, that process had been awkward, but at least it was over quickly and Cloud was able to get him something to wear. The jokes about Sephiroth “finally wearing a shirt” were relentless the first three days, but he learned to take them in stride. Seeing the way Cloud and Tifa teased each other as they were comfortable helped him realize that it was Cloud’s way of trying to include him, which Sephiroth appreciated. The few jokes were somewhat annoying, but not hurtful.

“Sad that you’re gonna cover up those washboard abs, huh?”

“I’m surprised the shirt didn’t just jump off of you anyway;”

“Won’t get you any with buttons. You’ll just lose them if you flex too hard;”

Sephiroth recalled the jokes on his sixteenth day at Seventh Heaven as he pulled his clothing out of Tifa’s dryer; a fond smile crept onto his face. Cloud’s jokes were terrible, but well-meaning. As well as ill-timed, as he heard from over his shoulder:

“That shirt did nothing to you, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and folded the long-sleeve shirt up before he looked to Cloud. “I was just regretting allowing you to pick out clothing for me. You have no fashion sense.”

Cloud – in a manner that fit Sephiroth’s taunt – was wearing an old t-shirt with _Chocobo Racing_ advertised on it, and jeans with the knees ripped out. “Better than yours, Mr. ‘I-only-wear-shades-of-black-and-gray.’ And the same coat, for like, _ever_.”

“It’s the only coat that fits me,” countered Sephiroth. He turned to look at Cloud, who leaned in the door frame. “Do you have a reason for invading or are you just bored?”

Cloud pushed past him and hopped up on the washing machine. Sephiroth frowned – he had wet clothing in there and Cloud was sitting on the door. “I’m here because we’re already halfway through the month and you’re still living here. Well, _we_ are, since I promised I wouldn’t leave you hanging.”

Sephiroth sighed and pulled one of his dryer-warm shirts on over his head. “Cloud, you really needn’t burden yourself with my care. I’m sure I can find some sort of employment here. I’m aware some people require hands to do under-the-table jobs-“

“Which can get you into deep shit if you don’t know who you’re working for,” interrupted Cloud. “You forget, this isn’t Midgar anymore. There’s no more ‘people on the plate,’ it’s all just whoever survived Meteorfall and started their life over.” Cloud held his hand up when Sephiroth began to interject. “There’s a lot of Slum culture still at play here. Those who don’t care about your past would blackmail you if they figured you out. And you certainly don’t act like you’ve ever lived below the plate.”

Sephiroth quirked a brow. “How is it that I’m supposed to behave?”

Cloud grinned at him. “For one thing, you have real good grammar.” He burst out laughing as Sephiroth gave him an incredulous look. “No, seriously! I know your education was all ShinRa funded, and the way you talk reflects that. Hell, if it weren’t for my Nibelheim accent, I’d be given a few nervous looks.”

Sephiroth snorted and picked up his laundry basket. “You do speak fairly well… for a redneck.”

As he turned around, Sephiroth heard Cloud lick his lips with a loud smack before he said, “Mighty swell flattery from a city boy like you,” he said, the country drawl in his accent coming out heavier than Sephiroth had ever heard it.

Sephiroth tensed; a little tingle crawled up his spine and his chest hitched a little. His face was warm – he told himself it was entirely because of the warm laundry he was holding. “If that was supposed to be a sentence, I believe my response should be ‘you’re welcome,’” said Sephiroth.

Cloud laughed behind him. “I guess that was a little tough for the _Sophisticated Sephiroth._ ” He paused, then giggled again as he came out with “Sophistiroth.”

“…Don’t do that.” Sephiroth left the laundry room, part to take care of his dry clothing and part to escape… whatever it was Cloud was doing. Cloud, however, followed right behind Sephiroth. “What?”

“We’re not done talking,” said Cloud as he caught up with and fell into place beside Sephiroth. “I was just saying that it’s going to be hard enough if people recognize you. Being too intelligent for some of them who don’t will still be an issue. Which is why I’m going to help you out.”  
  
Sephiroth started down the basement steps, his laundry basket balanced on his hip. “And why do you feel the need to help me? That’s something I have been trying to figure out since day one of this…” Sephiroth waved his hand above his head. “Situation.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” said Cloud. He put it so simply that Sephiroth would have suspected him of an ulterior motive if he’d been anyone else _but_ Cloud Strife. “There might be a little childish wish-fulfillment in there, too,” he admitted quietly.

Sephiroth put the basket on the floor beside the couch, and then sat heavily. He looked back at Cloud and waited. “Care to elaborate? I can’t _possibly_ be that fascinating to you anymore. You’ve seen me mop and vacuum now, you know I eat and sleep like any almost-normal person. I fold my own clothing and make my bed. What else is there?”

Cloud ran a hand through his hair, which made it messier than usual. “I told you, it’s childish.” When he didn’t continue, Sephiroth sighed.

“Cloud, you have nothing to fear from me... now. At the very least, you’ve seen me at my absolute worst. There’s very little I can judge you for.”

That made Cloud rock on the balls of his bare feet and look away; he acted like a child who didn’t want to give up his secrets – Sephiroth only guessed that because Denzel had a similar way of avoiding issues whenever Tifa cornered him. “Cloud?”

“Okay, okay. I mean, I did kinda go over this on the _Shera,_ but… my hero worship…”

“Which you said was ‘pathetic,’” added Sephiroth. Cloud shushed him with a wave of his hand.

“I was a _huge_ fanboy. Not just because I admired you, but I really made every effort to learn what I could. Before I even knew you had a fanclub in Midgar.” Cloud moved closer; Sephiroth invited him to sit on the couch beside him. He slowly sat and fidgeted with his hands. “Actually… I think you were my first real crush.”

Sephiroth blinked at the admission. Certainly, it wasn’t the first time someone had admitted an attraction to him, but he had rarely believed anyone to be genuine about it. “Cloud, the Sephiroth you had a crush on…”

“I know, I know. Fabricated for propaganda. The real you is a weirdo who likes to hang from the support beams to get his workout in and gets up at the ass-crack of dawn to do so.” Cloud snagged a clothing article off the top of the basket. “And he folds his underwear into triangles.”

Sephiroth snatched his briefs back with a frown and refolded them. “I wouldn’t have to ‘hang’ from anything if you’d let me out to the gym. Or at least for a morning run. If it wasn’t for my training against long-term imprisonment, I would have cracked… again.”

Cloud looked at Sephiroth in concern. “You don’t feel like a prisoner here, do you?” he asked, the conversation directed away from him.

Sephiroth growled in frustration and shook his head. “No, I don’t. I am _bored_ , however. Even Tifa asking for help as a ‘human calculator’ for balancing her books has gotten stale.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. None of it was Cloud’s fault, of course. “I don’t think an apartment here in town would be a good idea, if you’re worried someone may recognize me.”

“We could always cut and dye-“

“If you’re suggesting dying my hair, it won’t be the only thing… that… died…” said Sephiroth haltingly.

Cloud pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows. He convulsed for a moment before he doubled over with laughter. “Oh my god… that was the worst threat I’ve ever heard,” he said. Cloud kept himself folded down and laughed into his knees.

Sephiroth felt heat creep up into his face again, but it was embarrassment. “It wasn’t that bad…” he trailed, though his wounded ego was oddly soothed by Cloud’s laughter. The blond looked up at him and then started to laugh again, until his shoulders shook and hardly any sound came out. “It really wasn’t that funny,” protested Sephiroth. He reached out and grabbed Cloud’s shoulder before he smothered himself.

Cloud popped up like a springboard the moment Sephiroth touched him and wiped at his eyes. “I know… it wasn’t that funny, but just the way you said… said it…” he gasped. “Oh, oh no, you’re blushing…” he said and pointed at Sephiroth’s face. “I wasn’t laugh-“

“I know you weren’t laughing at me, I just don’t understand it,” said Sephiroth.

Cloud’s voice cracked with a soft “mmhmm” before he managed to calm himself. “I don’t either, really. You just… the _way_ you said it struck me as hysterical.” He fanned his face and puffed out his cheeks with a breath of air. “I think getting out of here might be a good idea for both of us.” He got himself up again and tugged on one of Sephiroth’s hands. “I think taking you out on the bike is safe,” he suggested.

Sephiroth looked at him like he was (still) nuts. “On that metal beast you call a motorcycle? The one that hardly looks like it would fit two?”

Cloud waved a hand in dismissal. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Those other… not-Kadaj clones of yours could fit on one together, and they were roughly our… sizes,” he said, with a gesture between them to make his point. “Put on a helmet and tuck your hair in and no one will know it’s you.”

“Loz and Yazoo.”

Cloud made a face. “Bless you?”

Sephiroth groaned quietly. “Loz and Yazoo. Kadaj’s… brothers. The big one was Loz and the thinner one was Yazoo.”

Cloud blinked at him owlishly. “I didn’t know they had names. Just Kadaj.”

“Of course you didn’t. It’s not like I told them to sit down and have tea with you. They were Kadaj’s guardians.”

“Huh.” Cloud resumed his pull on Sephiroth’s hand until he gave up and got to his feet. “C’mon, we can either: apartment hunt, house hunt or just get the hell out of here. The fresh air will both do us some good.”

“I still have-“

Cloud let go of Sephiroth’s hand to put his own on his hips. “Are you seriously going to stay here just to do _laundry?_ When I am offering to get us both out of here before some _one_ loses his mind? Again?”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes up and tipped his head back. Being constantly reminded of his weakest hour was _really_ not necessary. “Very well. At least let me put the remainder of my clothing in the dryer before we go. You sat on the washing machine before I could get it out.”

Cloud just smiled at that and slapped a hand on his biceps. “That’s the spirit. I’ll go see if I’ve got a spare helmet,” he said, before he ran off up the basement stairs.

“Wait, I thought-“ But Cloud had already left. _He doesn’t even know if he has a helmet… brilliant._ It wasn’t a concern about either one of them shattering a skull; either one of them could probably survive most accidents. It was just how Cloud operated. Every day, he could see those little bits of Zack’s personality that had clung to Cloud’s. There wasn’t so much that Zack’s persona continued to eclipse Cloud’s, but the little bit of natural bleed-over when two people had been close for some time began to imitate each other.

It was something Sephiroth envied, in a small way.

Once he had his laundry in the dryer with a note to himself to get it out upon their return, Sephiroth met Cloud in his small garage where he kept _Fenrir,_ the large black bike and Cloud’s prized possession. Cloud had strapped on his riding leathers and boots; an extra pair of goggles hung from his wrist while he stashed a small cooler in one of his bike’s compartments.

“Bringing a lunch?” asked Sephiroth when he spied Cloud rearranging his things.

“Tifa made us something to eat. And I’ve seen you when you get hungry. You get cranky,” said Cloud. He grinned up at Sephiroth and then sat on his bike and gave the seat a pat.

Sephiroth pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt to keep most of his hair hidden. “I do not get cranky. I’m not a toddler.”

Cloud rolled his eyes, though he still smiled at Sephiroth like a loon. “Fine, you get grumpy. Like an old man.” He thrust the goggles in Sephiroth’s direction. “Here, put this on and strap them firmly on. A kicked up pebble to the cornea hurts like a motherfucker.”

Sephiroth raise a brow at Cloud’s turn of phrase, but strapped the goggles around his face. He struggled to get them secure enough around his head without them trying to slide back down his nose. After a few moments, he felt ready to give up. “I can handle pain,” he grunted.

Cloud chuckled and stood up. He grabbed Sephiroth’s hoodie strings and used them to pull Sephiroth down so they were face to face. “You just had the wrong part,” said Cloud, as he reached around Sephiroth’s head and adjusted the goggles for him. “Feel better?”

Sephiroth, in spite of himself, had gone completely still. Cloud was very close to him again, arms around his neck while he adjusted the goggle straps. Face to face, mere inches apart, and Sephiroth was tongue-tied. He only gave a mute nod; Cloud looked satisfied and sat on his bike again, with his invitation for Sephiroth to join him still open.

Curled against Cloud’s back, arms around his waist, Sephiroth closed his eyes – not in fear of their speed or dizzy from the passing world – he reveled in the feeling of Cloud being in his arms. Even if it was only for a ride.

 

The ride out to Kalm took about two hours to cross the Grasslands, simply to turn up nothing at all. Few in Kalm were selling, and those that were, the homes were well out of what Cloud could afford on a delivery boy salary. Things began to feel discouraging.

Cloud sat with Sephiroth on a bench right beside Kalm’s water feature, the old stone structure the same as Sephiroth remembered it from passing through years before. Cloud unpacked their lunch and passed Sephiroth a sandwich of Tifa’s making, laden with meat and cheese.

“Well, today was a bust, but it’s not the only town. We could try Junon, or maybe find another temporary space in Edge. That way we’re not totally ditching Tifa and Denzel right away,” suggested Cloud.

Sephiroth nodded his assent. “It would be a logical step. Denzel already dislikes me. Wouldn’t want to compound ills by having him hate me for taking you away from him.”

Cloud looked up at Sephiroth and watched him eat until the staring made Sephiroth uncomfortable. “What?”

“You’re a lot calmer, I’ve noticed.”

Sephiroth looked down at his sandwich. “You may find it hard to believe, but before Mo—Jenova, I was not the menacing madman you chased all over the Planet. This…” he gestured to himself, seated there on a picnic blanket with his sandwich, “Is as close to the ‘real me’ as you might ever meet.”

Cloud was quiet for a few moments. Sephiroth assumed he was thinking. “Do you still hear her? Jenova?”

Sephiroth washed down a bite of his sandwich with a sip from a water bottle before he replied, “No. Though I do not rule out the possibility of her trying again. If, or when, that time comes, I don’t know what will happen to me, if I’ll lose myself again or not.”

Cloud raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Why? What’s so different now?”

Sephiroth put his lunch down and dusted his hands of breadcrumbs. He looked Cloud in the eye and drew out a long sigh before he answered. “You.”


	6. You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth and Cloud talk

Sephiroth’s simple answer had put Cloud into a stupor.

“You,” he had said, easily, calmly. One word. Three letters. Him.

Unfortunately, with that short and easy answer came questions, so many questions that he couldn’t even begin to organize them all. Instead, he drove them back to Edge without saying more than “Let’s mosey,” so flat that Sephiroth didn’t even make fun of him for it. Cloud could only guess his shock was enough of a reaction to Sephiroth that he had decided to not elaborate.

Which was why he drove back to Edge as quickly as he could; Sephiroth issued no complaint about the speed they traveled at. His grip was steady and firm, but to Cloud if felt like a vice was around his lungs, but it had nothing to do with how tight Sephiroth held onto him.

Once they were back at Tifa’s Seventh Heaven, Sephiroth got off of Fenrir and handed Cloud his goggles without looking at him.

“I have to take care of my laundry,” was all he said, and left, just like that, with Cloud alone in his garage.

“Hey, how did th-“ Tifa’s voice came from the hall between buildings; _She must have heard the engine,_ thought Cloud, the goggles still in his hand.

“Couldn’t afford a house,” Sephiroth interrupted. “Anything within budget was in shambles.”

Tifa came into the garage and stared after Cloud, a worried look on her face. “Did something happen?” she asked. When Cloud didn’t answer, she approached. “Hell-o?” she asked again, a hand waved in front of Cloud’s eyes. He blinked and looked at Tifa with a frown. “Did you guys have a fight?”

Cloud shook his head and sank back onto his bike. “All I did was… not respond to something he said.” He hung the goggles off of one of Fenrir’s handlebars and watched them swing a moment until he stopped them. Tifa stood over him as she waited for him to continue.

“I asked him if he still heard Jenova’s voice.”

Tifa said nothing; she gestured with a hand for him to keep going. Cloud sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. His head began to hurt.

“He said ‘no,’ that if he did, he didn’t know what would happen to him, if he’d let her talk him into being a homicidal maniac again or not,” said Cloud. His throat was dry, like he’d been catching dirt in his mouth on the way home.

Tifa folded her arms across her chest. “That’s it?” she asked.

Cloud took another long breath; he thought of all the times Sephiroth held his breath before speaking and then blew it out as a big puff of air. “No. I asked him what was different…” Cloud looked down at his hands and picked at the palm of one glove. “He said ‘you.’ As in me. Like I’m… making him different. Or maybe because I’m around, he knows he can’t win? I don’t know.”

“What did you say?”

“That was what I _didn’t_ respond to. He didn’t feel like elaborating, I guess. My… non-response was enough for him.”

Tifa rubbed at her forehead, her eyes closed as she listened. “Okay, this is Sephiroth, right?”

Cloud looked at up her with a furrowed brow. “Of course it is.”

“And Sephiroth was never really the sharing type, right? Hence why ShinRa made sure he was all dark and mysterious? Because he didn’t share? He wasn’t a touchy-feely-let’s-hug-and-have-tea kind of guy, right?”

Cloud wasn’t following her point. “Well, he’s shared some things. I mean, he told me about a dream he had… I mean, it was a couple weeks ago…”

Tifa circled her hand in front of herself, for Cloud to carry on. “And he only told you about the dream. And now he’s said that you might be the reason things could be different if he hears Jenova again?”

Cloud nodded, rather slowly, as he tried to fit the pieces together of a puzzle he still couldn’t see. “Yeah…”

Tifa took Cloud’s face in both hands and made him look up at her. Honey brown eyes, focused and sharp, were on his. “He shares. With you. He came home. With. You. He kept you from wandering off in the forest. He used you as a pillow.”

“Oh my god.” Cloud’s eyes widened as Tifa listed off all the things she knew. _His reaction to me laughing, trying to tease me…_

Tifa let go of Cloud’s face and put her hands on her hips. “He likes you, Cloud.”

“Oh my god,” repeated Cloud, his face turning pink at the idea. He covered his mouth and looked down. He felt like he wanted to scream, to laugh, and to possibly throw up. “So I pretty much… oh my god.”

“You hurt his feelings.” Tifa snorted and shook her head. “At least you know for certain that he has feelings to hurt. Go. Talk to him, preferably before he ruins my basement.”

Cloud hopped off of his bike and went straight downstairs. He didn’t knock or even bother to announce himself. He hoped Sephiroth wouldn’t just throw him out for it. He didn’t know what to _do_ with a Sephiroth with hurt feelings. Psychotic, world-destroying Sephiroth? Absolutely. He was an expert at that. Emotionally wounded, more-sensitive-than-Cloud-realized Sephiroth? Not a clue.

As he came to the bottom step, he realized that Sephiroth might actually be _pouting_ , and the idea made him snicker, which he immediately squashed with his hand mashed against his own face, sounding like a distressed cough.

“You have thirty seconds,” said Sephiroth. His back was to Cloud as he folded the remains of his laundry, rather aggressively.

“Hey, that laundry did nothing to you,” said Cloud, trying to break the ice.

“Twenty five seconds.”

“Dammit.” Cloud cleared his throat and took a steadying breath. He held one hand on the railing; he was ready to leave if Sephiroth wanted it. “I’m just here to apologize.”

“For what?” was Sephiroth’s chilly reply.

“For not saying anything when… well, you said a lot with so little and it really shocked the hell out of me. I mean, why am I so important _now_ that you might ignore… _her?_ You wouldn’t even listen to Zack last time-“

“Because I’m the one who made Zack kill his mentor. Angeal. He was my friend.”

_That’s one mystery solved, I suppose…_ thought Cloud. There was still a lot he didn’t know about the years leading up to the Nibelheim Incident. That he got one hole of many filled was something at least. “You knew Zack better than I did, but I know he wouldn’t have killed someone unless he had to.”

“Angeal wanted to die.”

Cloud cleared his throat again, unsure of what to do with that statement. “Can we talk about you? Why am I so important now?”

Sephiroth put the shirt he was folding down and lowered his head. “It’s not so simple as _you_ , Cloud. You’ve made an impact on me, something I can’t ignore.”

Cloud let go of the railing and stepped closer to Sephiroth. It felt like the volatility of the conversation was dwindling, and thirty seconds were up. “Because I beat you?” he guessed.

“That… is part of it.” Sephiroth turned around as he sensed Cloud come up behind him. “It’s difficult to put into words.”

“Can I take a guess?”

Sephiroth nodded and waited for Cloud to continue.

“You’ve been alone for a long time. You had friends, Zack, Angeal…”

“Genesis,” Sephiroth added in, then let Cloud carry on.

“But you still felt isolated. Because you’re you. The perfect SOLDIER, ShinRa’s trademarked hero and probably the most intimidating man on the Planet. You had the skills to live up to the name, but none of the ego that should have gone with it. Not until that voice in your head told you whatever you needed to hear.”

“Something like that,” said Sephiroth, very quietly. “You’re mostly right, of course. And this is a conversation we’ve had before. And yes, an irritating little cadet catching me off guard was not something that made a would-be mother very happy with me,” he said. Cloud huffed a laugh; Sephiroth smirked. “Speaking solely on the present, however, you’ve given me a home. Even though he doesn’t particularly like me, Denzel doesn’t flee at the sight of me. Tifa has only hit me the once, when by rights, she probably should be poisoning my dinner. I killed…”

Cloud stopped him there, a hand coming up to touch his fingertips to Sephiroth’s mouth. He had never seen Sephiroth like this; shoulders hunched, head down, posture curled back and away. His eyes looked glassy and grew bloodshot from strain of holding himself back.

“I know what you’ve done.” Cloud pulled his hand away from Sephiroth’s mouth. “I was there, remember?” He closed his eyes and flopped his arms against his sides, not sure of what to do with them. “But I think you’re… I think you really want a second chance, or we wouldn’t be standing here. We’d be out there fighting again.”

Sephiroth nodded, still mute. Cloud looked up at him and took his gloves off, then reached to Sephiroth’s face and held it in both hands. “If you wanna cry, go ahead.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s fine.” Cloud thumbed over his cheeks, which were warm and pink. Sephiroth rolled his lips together and bit the bottom one; it was the first time Cloud had ever seen such an unsure expression on him. He didn’t even consider Sephiroth knew that kind of body language. “But it’s okay if you do.”

“I feel… raw.”

Cloud nodded and gave him a half-hearted smile. “I imagine coming down from godhood to mere mortal again would leave you feeling vulnerable.” He moved his hands up into Sephiroth’s hair; he was surprised Sephiroth would allow this much contact, but he reckoned that Sephiroth probably never had a gentle touch in his life. “You wanna sit?”

“Yes.”

Cloud moved his hands down over Sephiroth’s shoulders and down to his hands. His own were warm, but Sephiroth’s felt frigid against his fingers. “Mama used to say, ‘cold hands, warm heart.’” He smiled a bit at Sephiroth and led him to his folded-up couch bed and took a seat against one of the arms.  
  
“Extremities grow cold when hearts beat faster,” replied Sephiroth.

“So, your heart is beating faster?” asked Cloud from where he sat. They were still hand in hand, as Sephiroth stood over the couch. He smiled again when Sephiroth avoided his gaze directly. “C’mon, big guy, I was just teasing. Sit with me.”

“It is,” replied Sephiroth as he sat. Cloud put a leg behind Sephiroth and pulled the larger man down against his chest. “Are you trying to coddle me, Strife?”

Cloud snorted and pushed Sephiroth’s head down. “Maybe. So? There’s nothing wrong with a little coddling.”

“Are you trying to make me soft?” Sephiroth laid his head down after a stubborn moment or two, settled over Cloud’s heart.

“You’re already soft. A great big squishy lump of angst and silver hair,” said Cloud, a laugh in his voice.

Sephiroth lifted his head again and gave Cloud an unamused look. “And you are a skinny twig of a mother Chocobo.”

Cloud laughed again, Sephiroth’s head bouncing when he did so. “That’s the spirit. Give into immature impulses and call your friends stupid nicknames. Then cuddle on the couch when you feel like shit.”

Sephiroth rumbled in his throat, the sound something like a cough. “Hmm, I admit, this is… pleasant.” He went quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. “I apologize for my… moodiness.”

Cloud ran his fingers through Sephiroth’s bangs and smoothed it out. “Don’t bother. I’d rather know you have feelings to hurt than to think you’re trying to be an unfeeling…” Cloud hesitated, the word escaping him.

“Monster?” supplied Sephiroth.

“No. Monsters have feelings, too. I was going to say ‘robot,’ but I wanted a big, fancy word like you prefer,” said Cloud. He chuckled again; Sephiroth repositioned himself so his head was under Cloud’s chin.

“Automaton.”

“Huh?”

“I believe the word you were looking for was ‘automaton,’ Cloud. ‘Robot’ is more succinct, however.”

Cloud snorted and put his hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder. One arm was pinned to the back of the couch by Sephiroth’s weight. “You and your fancy book-learnin’ words. City slicker.”

“Redneck.”

 

An oddly peaceful sort of silence passed over them as the minutes ticked by. Cloud felt Sephiroth’s body relax on top of him. He looked down, to study Sephiroth’s face – the closed eyes with impressively long eyelashes, the slope of his nose and the faintest hint of freckles smattered over it and the apples of his cheeks.

At another time, having Sephiroth curled against him might have made Cloud’s heart soar, having Shinra’s mightiest General all to himself. The teenager he had been probably would have had a heart attack at the idea. The fluttery heartache that might have been was replaced with pity and confusion. And though he’d made efforts to include Sephiroth in his patchwork family, Cloud still hadn’t forgiven him. Yet. If there really was a ‘yet’ to reach.

Cloud touched Sephiroth’s face, his thumb brushed over the pale dusting of freckles on his cheek and watched him flinch at the foreign touch. Sephiroth’s eyes remained closed and he sighed as he readjusted himself on Cloud’s chest.

_Why are you here?_ Cloud asked Sephiroth, in his head. _Why couldn’t you just stay a bad memory? And are you really trying to **be** here? Or do you just not know what to do with yourself?_ He asked an imaginary Sephiroth, one conjured in his mind’s eye with a wall of flames behind him. Cloud’s mental image of Sephiroth turned his back and walked toward the fire, being swallowed by it but not burned. Cloud closed his own eyes; Sephiroth had him pinned for the time being with his slumbering weight.

_Stop turning away from me!_ He shouted after the image in his head, and gave chase into an inferno. _Tell me what you want!_

Cloud woke again with a jerk. Sephiroth materialized in the shadows over him, a pinkish imprint of Cloud’s shirt zipper pressed into his cheek. He looked as groggy as Cloud felt. “You were shaking me,” grunted Sephiroth, his voice dry.

“Probably a nightmare,” groaned Cloud. He rubbed at his left eye with the heel of his hand, as he felt a headache loom above his eyes.

“My apologies,” said Sephiroth. The weight on Cloud’s chest vanished as Sephiroth sat up, finger-combing his long hair. “I hadn’t realized I was so exhausted.”

Cloud swung his tingling right leg to the floor as he winced at the dance of pins and needles from his foot to his knee. “Maybe if you stopped getting up at the asscrack of dawn…” he began, but found his prodding joke to fall flat. Sephiroth stared at the floor, distracted beside him.

“Do you recall that I told you of a… vision I had?” asked Sephiroth.

Cloud thought about it as he studied Sephiroth’s profile. “Yeah. You said it was some sort of future. That was all you really said about it though,” he replied. “You wanna tell me what it was about?”

Sephiroth shook his head. He was slightly disheveled, but combed out his hair with his fingers in an attempt to look more dignified, Cloud presumed. “I’m still… thinking about it. It’s foolish of me to say, but I fear that if I talk about it, if I tell anyone about it… I’ll sabotage it.”

Cloud raised his eyebrows in surprise and a slight bit of concern. “You’re worried you’ll ruin it?”

“I’ve ruined other futures, including my own. My past record does not reflect too brightly on what’s to come.”

Cloud reached out and put his hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder. “Did you dream about it?” A nod. “Was it a good dream?” Another silent nod. “Well, for what it’s worth, I hope it comes true.”

Sephiroth looked at him, mouth slightly parted and the area around his eyes was a rosy color. A single tear dropped from his left eye and onto his leg. His eyes moved to Cloud’s in search of some sort of answer before he asked. “I don’t understand your kindness, Cloud. Of all the people on the Plan-mmph.”

Cloud pressed his fingertips against Sephiroth’s lips. “No. Don’t start that. I know I’ve got a million reasons to hate you. Certainly no reason to forgive you. And I haven’t… yet.”

Sephiroth closed his eyes. Cloud felt Sephiroth’s lips twitch and press back against his fingers. He didn’t pull away or move Cloud’s hand from his mouth. So Cloud kept talking. Another tear rolled down Sephiroth’s flushed cheek. Cloud gently placed his hand on Sephiroth’s jaw and swept away the rogue tear.

He continued to talk; Sephiroth seemed ready to listen. “I haven’t forgiven you, but I can tell you’re trying. I won’t say that I ever will.” Cloud stroked his thumb over Sephiroth’s cheek again and noticed how he turned in toward the touch. It reminded Cloud that Sephiroth probably starved for a gentle hand – no matter how much Hojo tried to beat the humanity out of him, it was still there, just hidden away.

“I understand,” murmured Sephiroth.

Cloud took a deep breath and cupped Sephiroth’s face in both hands. “I haven’t forgiven you, but I’m still glad you’re here. Hopefully you’ll think of me as someone you can trust.” Sephiroth started to speak, but Cloud put his thumbs over Sephiroth’s lips and chuckled when his expression turned to frustration. “Hang on. Don’t say you do yet. We haven’t started living by ourselves yet. You could change your mind.”

Sephiroth grunted and pulled Cloud’s hands away from his face. “You’re not going to start stealing my clothes, are you?” he asked.

Cloud chuckled and filed away Sephiroth’s change of subject for later. “Only if I wanted to wear your shirt as a dress, but frankly, I’ve worn way classier dresses than your boring shirts.”

Sephiroth’s brows furrowed with a look of incredulity. “You’ve what?”

Cloud’s wicked grin spread across his lips. “Maybe I’ll show you someday.” He got up from the couch and left Sephiroth there to puzzle out whether or not he was joking. Just to play into his confusion, he placed a kiss on Sephiroth’s forehead – not that he seemed to notice – and said:

“I’ve got lacy panties too,” he said, in his most sultry tone. “Black ones, pink ones, baby blue…”

As Cloud went back upstairs to check on dinner, he could feel Sephiroth’s eyes on him as he left his former enemy in a state of shock.


	7. And Now This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Tifa's POV, with bonus Sephiroth interaction.

It had taken a depressingly short amount of time to move Cloud and Sephiroth out. Both men carried very little aside from clothes; Sephiroth had enough room in the duffel he borrowed from Tifa to carry a few personal effects for Cloud.

That had to have been the saddest thing that Tifa had ever seen. She had never expected to pity Sephiroth, but seeing him open his bag when Cloud couldn’t fit the framed picture of AVALANCHE in his own made her heart clench, just a bit. A small part of her had to admit there was glaring irony about the act; it was a picture someone had taken that day at the church, with Cloud and Denzel soaked through from being in the pond, the rest of AVALANCHE surrounding them and smiling – right after Cloud had defeated Sephiroth for the last time.

Tifa sincerely hoped it had been the last time, but for some reason, Death never stuck to Sephiroth like it did everyone else. Even knowing that Aerith had not truly been defeated by Sephiroth, she never returned in a physical form like he did. At least now that he was back again, Sephiroth was not an enemy. She didn’t understand what he was at all.

That didn’t stop her from feeling just a tiny bit badly that Sephiroth, child of the Calamity, General of SOLDIER and the number one reason Cloud blamed himself for a lot of things – had nothing and no one to himself. She recalled first meeting the man in Nibelheim; how cold and distant he was, his face unreadable to emotion, except once. She remembered trying to run him through with Masamune, the wide-eyed, wild look in Sephiroth’s eyes when she dared bring his own blade against him. The world going black when he’d tried to slice her in two, only succeeding in giving her a scar across her torso she carried into Midgar as a badge of survival.

Every so often, she would feel it pull, even though it was faded enough that she could wear low collared shirts with confidence and not just convenience.  Its presence was just a portion of the reasons she had taken Masamune from him and destroyed it, to effectively “neuter” Sephiroth as long as he stayed with them.

Knowing all this, having the memories she did, she came to realize that the man who had stayed with them was far and away not the same that had ruined her life. After the initial introduction and a few days of awkwardness, Denzel had let his grudge against Kadaj slide. Being the third adult in the house, Denzel had gone to Sephiroth in a fit of desperation while Tifa was too busy to help him with his homework. Cloud had proven time and again to just be lost when it came to the “new math” they were teaching Denzel, but Sephiroth had it worked out in a pinch, and the resulting “A” Denzel had earned had warmed him up to the man’s otherwise frosty presence. Just a little, but significant enough to be noticed.

Just before they had left for their new apartment, Tifa had cornered Cloud in her living room, asking him again if he was truly willing to do this, to re-introduce Sephiroth into a world that was beginning to forget him. Shortly after she saw them out the door, watching them load their pitifully under-stuffed bags onto the back of Cloud’s motorcycle, she recalled the last conversation she had with Cloud about the move, and tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted when Sephiroth leaned over Cloud to hang onto him.

_“Tifa, I promise you, I’m okay,” Cloud had said, flopped back on her couch like he’d fallen there instead of sitting like a normal person. There were still traits of youth in him, even after everything that he’d been through._

_Tifa, however, stood over Cloud with her arms over her chest. “I still don’t like the idea of the two of you cooped up together in an apartment. I just don’t want him **here.** ”_

_Cloud sighed and draped an arm over his face. She knew she had been turning him around in circles over this, and his irritation showed itself every time. “Tifa… you want me to have him live alone? Do you remember what leaving Sephiroth ‘alone’ got us before? Nibelheim-“_

_“Don’t. Just… don’t, okay? I get it. If left to his own devices, Sephiroth could end up causing more trouble than if he had a babysitter, I just wish it didn’t have to be **you**. Why is it always you?”_

_Cloud peered out from under his arm. “I’ve been asking myself that question for years. Why me? Me versus him, always. I got the drop on him once, and that was it. Fates inextricably intertwined.” He paused briefly, and then added, “I hate fate.”_

Tifa watched them speed away and prayed to Aerith that they wouldn’t kill each other.

 

It was two weeks into their residence a few blocks over that Tifa got a new surprise. While Cloud had kept her abreast of most of the goings-on with their move, she noticed a considerable _lack_ of talk about a certain silver-haired SOLDIER, outside of them just moving in, realizing they didn’t have everything they needed, and a hilarious-only-to-Cloud recount of them attempting to shop for groceries together.

So it came as a huge surprise to Tifa that Sephiroth showed up, one cold and particularly rainy afternoon – by himself. Standing at her back door, dark sunglasses to hide the damning evidence of his cat-like eyes, holding an umbrella just large enough to keep his head and shoulders dry while his long legs were soaked from the knees down. There was even a considerable slump to his shoulders that had Tifa curious about why he would approach her on his own, added to how his head was lowered and how he just _stood there,_ waiting to be let in or turned away.  
  
Finally, Tifa took the bait. “Hello, Sephiroth. What makes you darken my door without a phone call?” she asked. Her curt tone caused him to visibly waver on his feet before he replied to her.

“Cloud left.”

“He left?” Tifa raised a brow and leaned forward until he added more.

“On a delivery.”

“That’s his job.”

Silence for ten seconds, and then, “I know that.”

Tifa drew in a long breath, held it with her eyes closed, and then opened them as she let it out in a sigh. “Would you like to come in?” she asked as she moved aside, just enough room for Sephiroth to squeeze his bulk in beside her.

He was silent as he folded his umbrella and left it beside the door, put his sunglasses in his jacket pocket and hung it on the row of hooks above the umbrella. Tifa watched Sephiroth with her arms folded over her chest as he did so, then turned and led the way upstairs, to her home. Without having to tell him, Sephiroth followed on his own, still quiet behind her. That he was right behind her tempted Tifa to mule kick his face when she reached a high enough step, but she reigned in the impulse. Something about this impromptu visit should have sent up warning bells, but there was a weight, a near tangible heaviness hanging over him that Tifa couldn’t help but take notice of.

When they reached her kitchen, Tifa pulled out a chair and offered him a seat, wordlessly, but earned her first word from Sephiroth in the last three minutes. “Thank you,” he murmured as he sat. The chair creaked in response to his weight.

Tifa set her hands on the back of another chair and watched him. “All right. So, Cloud left. You’re an adult-“

“Who shouldn’t be left alone,” snapped Sephiroth, though there was little bite. “I overheard your conversation.”

A grimace crossed her face for a moment before Tifa responded. “Well, sometimes, you shouldn’t. Not until we know…” Tifa waved one hand for emphasis, but the feelings she had lacked proper words. “That you’re not nuts.”

Sephiroth huffed, one hand laid on top of the table. He stared at it, rather than looking at her. “I told Cloud he should leave. His job shouldn’t be my caretaker. He agreed… for the most part.”

Tifa raised a brow and sat. “And?”

Sephiroth sighed and tapped his fingers on the table top. “He doesn’t like the idea of leaving me alone for prolonged periods of time. His current job will take him two days. He tried to turn it down.”

Tifa nodded as she began to understand. “So, you two had a fight because you think you’re okay, and he doesn’t think so?”

“I know I’m not ‘okay.’ I have never been ‘okay’ in my life, Tifa. Merely, I had better control of myself before I discovered the truth.” Sephiroth cleared his throat and raised his hand from the table. “ _Hojo’s_ permitted truth,” he corrected. “I merely did not want to upheave his life any more than I have, and he did not want to hear it.”

“Wait, so you feel bad that Cloud wanted to keep close to you?” Tifa asked. She earned a nod for her guess. She put her forehead against the heel of her hand and leaned against the table. “God, save me from martyrs.” She felt Sephiroth finally look at her, so she began to elaborate. “You don’t want to be a burden. You don’t want to ruin his life. You want him to be happy without you… Do you know just how… _Cloud_ that is?”

The look on Sephiroth’s face was almost comical. His emotions had always been difficult to discern, but the hunch of his shoulders and the furrow of his brow over his wide eyes made Tifa laugh anyway.

“I’m sure he appreciates your weird sense of honor. He’s probably out there right now, put off that you’d make him go do his job instead of worry over whether or not you’re going to burn down the city.”

“He’s probably worrying anyway.”

Tifa chuckled at that and nodded. “Probably.  His hair is going to be grayer than yours at this rate.” Sephiroth’s unamused glower just made her laugh again. “You know what I mean.” She got up again from her chair; the amusement at Sephiroth’s expense countered her annoyance about him showing up unexpectedly.  “So, you and Cloud had an argument. Did he go quietly?” she asked as she got out two mugs and put on her tea kettle. She also pulled out a small box of pastries and plates just so she could have something to do to keep her from fidgeting over Sephiroth being in the room with her, no Cloud-buffer between them.

“No. I made him leave. Then, I came here.” Sephiroth said, his soft voice even quieter under the sounds of Tifa as she milled about. “I did agree with him. I **shouldn’t** be alone.” Tifa paused as she heard him murmur, “I’m scared of what might happen.”

_Scared? **Sephiroth?**_ Tifa turned away from her cabinets, slowly, and looked at Sephiroth, at least, the back of his head where he sat, hunched over the table, propped up on both arms now. Her heart pounded in her chest with nervousness. “Scared? You?”

“I really shouldn’t be alone. But Cloud should not have to be my personal attendant, either.” Sephiroth did not turn to look at her, so she couldn’t read his face, but the slump of his shoulders, the way he leaned over the table said enough.

She approached him from behind and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sephiroth… do you want to destroy the Planet?” she asked, very quietly.

“I don’t know what I want.” Sephiroth paused. “Cloud asks what I want to do, but I have no answers. I was not made to _want_ , or even care. They tried—“ Sephiroth stopped himself and took a deep breath. “I’m not supposed to be human.”

Tifa pulled her chair around so it was right beside Sephiroth’s and sat with him. Every instinct told her to run the other way and let him be miserable, but she knew that it would never help, even if it was someone she had been convinced didn’t deserve the comfort.

“But you are.” Sephiroth wouldn’t look at her, so she reached over and touched his chin. She was surprised to find he turned his head easily, and that he even allowed her touch. His eyes were closed, or lowered – it was hard to tell with the thickness of his dark lashes – but that didn’t stop her. “You’re human, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise. As much as I want you to be a monster, I know you’re not. You’re a fucked up human, like the rest of us.”

Sephiroth squeezed his eyes tight. Each one was wet and a tear rolled down either cheek. Tifa reached over to the napkin holder on the table and pulled one out, dabbing it against his face. His eyes opened again, slightly bloodshot, which made the green irises even more vivid in comparison. The contrast made Tifa dizzy, so she tried to not look him directly in the eye.

“I’ve been trying to make sense of why I’m back, ever since I got here,” Sephiroth murmured. He just kept going, unprompted, and Tifa was hesitant to stop him. “I feel like I’ve just been playing at being a normal person, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then… _she…_ ”

Tifa sighed as she took a moment to catch his gaze. “You think that Jenova’s just gonna pop up and ruin everything again?” Sephiroth nodded, mutely. “According to what Rufus says, the last bits of her are in Cloud… and you, of course.”

Sephiroth was quiet another moment or two, his gaze unfocused. “When I first arrived, I fell through one of the shell houses in Ajit,” he said.

“Yeah, Cloud told me you slipped, which, honestly, is pretty funny to me,” replied Tifa. She got up to attend to the kettle, which had started to whistle from the stove. “You’re usually more graceful than that.”

“I believe Aerith caused my fall.”

Tifa paused, having nearly dropped the kettle at hearing him use Aerith’s name so casually. As if he hadn’t run her through and manipulated Cloud into nearly killing her himself. “Oh?” she asked, through a tight jaw.

“Yes. I… haven’t told Cloud everything, but, when I fell… I had a vision.” Sephiroth cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. Tifa turned around, having poured tea for both of them – and being sorely tempted to dump it all in his lap – and set the mugs on the table, to a soft “thank you,” before Sephiroth continued his train of thought. “The vision… had two parts. One was a possibility of an unfavorable outcome, where Cloud and I are damned to fight each other, both puppets for an unfeeling alien and an unyielding Planet… well, after everyone else was gone and the Planet nothing but ashes.”

Tifa pulled her chair a little further back and sat. She held her cup to her lips and blew across the hot tea surface and waited.

“The other was…” Sephiroth paused again, and Tifa wanted to deck him. She knew he had a hard time telling stories – conversations between him and Cloud must have taken days, she presumed – so she just let him think. “It was a possibility I didn’t want to bring up to Cloud because it concerns him… and I don’t…” He paused to laugh and shake his head. “I don’t want to jinx it.”

Tifa’s mug hit the counter with almost enough force to break it. “You. You’re superstitious? I find that really hard to believe.”

A corner of Sephiroth’s mouth twitched in a brief half-smile before he responded. “That’s not exactly the way I meant it, but that’s how it… _feels._ If I talk about it with him, Cloud might end up trying to prevent it. Or _I’ll_ sabotage myself.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he try to prevent-“

“He was part of my future.” Sephiroth lifted his own mug to his lips. “We were married.”

Tifa stared at Sephiroth’s profile for what could have been hours. All she heard was the blood rushing in her ears as she watched him sip at his tea, silent as he avoided her gaze. She felt her mouth try to work, but no words came out, just a series of gag noises and the sounds of her teeth tapping.

“I don’t get- how? Why? Why the two of you? Where was I? Why would you even- he’s not, well, no, maybe… but you…” Tifa finally managed to speak, but her words were still not forming complete thoughts.

“You were married to another man, and quite pregnant at the time,” offered Sephiroth. His gaze swept sideways to her and away again. “Again, it was only a possibility. Mulitverse theory posits that both situations will occur and not occu-“

“Since when are you gay?” interrupted Tifa. She blushed when she realized how she had just blurted that out, but since she was curious, she didn’t take it back.

Sephiroth was, she had to admit, much calmer about answering such a personal question. “I have been attracted to men for some time,” he said smoothly. “And some women. Alas, I was never quite the sexual conqueror I know many people speculated.” He sipped his tea again, his eyes focused on her fridge across the room.

Tifa laughed, incredulously. “So, what, you couldn’t find anyone willing to do the horizontal tango with _you?_ I may hate your guts, but I… I don’t know, Sephiroth. You’re stupidly hot.”

Her crass reaction made Sephiroth laugh, just enough that she saw a hint of a smile in his profile. “Thank you, Tifa, for your honesty. It was never about willingness, however. It was about connection. I could never really… feel.” He paused and took another sip of his tea, then finally looked her in the eyes again. “However, _I’ll_ be honest with you: I don’t know what I feel towards Cloud, if anything. The vision, or dream, was just that. I know the man I saw was not, could not be the same as the Cloud of present.” He paused once more, and then added, “I wouldn’t want to simply take him from you. I’ve done enough of that already.” He took another drink of his tea and focused his gaze on the table.

Tifa sat there with Sephiroth, dumbfounded, for several moments. She watched Sephiroth warily, as he appeared to wait for some kind of judgement. “Look, the … _thing_ right now with you and Cloud is just really complicated. I’m still unsure how to feel about you in general. I shouldn’t trust you, I should be trying to kick your ass.” She shifted forward and stared at him. He turned and stared right back at her and she didn’t blink. “While you’ve been here, you’ve shown that you’re a quiet, private person, and that’s…” Tifa huffed and patted her thigh as she searched for a word. “It’s completely divorced from my memories of you. If we just met on the street, no history whatsoever, I wouldn’t think twice of you.”

A small crease appeared on Sephiroth’s forehead as he frowned. “Is that some sort of compliment?”

“What I mean is: you, the man right here,” Tifa reached over and poked him in the bicep; he looked at her finger with a raised brow but said nothing, “I don’t know anything about _you._ And Cloud doesn’t either. I know he doesn’t. All we know is you’re smart, but you really suck when it comes to social skills. You’re quiet, but not silent. It’s _really_ hard to make you even smile, let alone laugh. And aside from working out and _doing your fucking laundry,_ you have no hobbies to speak of.”

Sephiroth’s face contorted. He frowned, then attempted a fake smile that looked more like he was cringing, then sneered. Tifa watched and tried to count the ways he tried to express himself before he gave up with a miserable sigh. “I’m boring, aren’t I?”

Tifa gave a startled laugh at his question and threw back the rest of her tea before she answered. “I didn’t want to say boring, but you’re mysterious in the way a cardboard box is mysterious.”

“Thank you?”

Tifa waved her hand. “Lemme finish. I mean… a cardboard box is just that on the outside, right? Pretty innocuous, most of the time. You don’t know what’s inside unless, A: there’s something on the outside to indicate what’s going on on the inside, or B: You have to open up the box and find out yourself.”

There was just an unsure frown on his face now as Sephiroth finished his own tea. “That allegory is actually a scientific thought experiment…” he murmured, though he did not correct her assumptions about him. “I suppose, though, that I don’t open myself up. I believe there’s nothing to be open about. I was created to be a weapon, nothing more.”

Sephiroth jolted when Tifa kicked the leg of his chair, hard enough to move him an inch or so away from her. “You might have been created to _be_ a weapon, but there’s something I know: Weapons don’t look for their origins. They don’t have a breakdown, just break. As deplorable as it was, you still had a reaction to whatever you found in that mansion.” Tifa watched him as he contemplated her words. Sephiroth gestured for her to continue. “And a weapon wouldn’t feel pain. Weapons don’t cry, Sephiroth. No matter what they did or how deep you tried to bury them, weapons don’t have feelings. They just don’t. They’re things.”

Tifa stood up and collected their mugs and took them to the sink. She trembled, at war with herself for sympathizing with a man who had destroyed her home, killed her father, and nearly destroyed the world. She sniffled and scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, her cheeks hot and flushed.

When she turned around again, Tifa nearly jumped out of her skin to find that Sephiroth had stood and come up right behind her. She looked up at him and raised her chin, ready to argue or fight, whichever he wanted. So it took her completely by surprise when he leaned over and put his arms around her waist. She gasped as she felt herself gently pinned against her sink, enveloped in long, strong arms with her head against his chest.

_Oh my god,_ thought Tifa. Unable to help herself, her hands gave a slight squeeze at his musculature.

“What was that?”

Tifa looked up and paled nearly instantly. “What was what?”

“You… sounded surprised.”

She felt the mortification sink into her stomach as she blushed furiously. “I said ‘Oh my god’ out loud, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” he replied. He actually looked amused.

Unmoved from where he held onto her, Tifa felt jostled as Sephiroth let out a soft, deep laugh. She tensed up in alarm and smacked her palm into his chest. “I told you. Stupidly hot. And carved from stone, apparently.”

“Ow,” replied Sephiroth. A small smile graced his lips.

Tifa grunted and pushed her head against his chest, still a little pink in her cheeks as she hugged him back. “I know that didn’t hurt. Asshole.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. But don’t tell Cloud. Let me tell him, or he’ll have an aneurysm. He’s not going to believe you if you tell him I let you hug me.”

Sephiroth let out another throaty chuckle. “Why is that? Is it because I initiated the embrace?”

Tifa poked her finger into his side, not that he seemed to notice. “No, I just want to be the first to see the look on his face.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. She could hear his heartbeat in the quiet kitchen, just a strong, steady rhythm underneath her ear. “And I really hate to admit this but this feels nice. For… you know. You.”

“I could stop. But I admit, personal contact is… good.” Sephiroth dropped his head down on top of hers and tightened his arms slightly.

Tifa gulped and pushed on his chest. “Okay. Now we need to stop or this may go too far.”

Sephiroth hummed; she could feel it vibrate against her cheek through him. “What is ‘too far’?”

“Too far is me dragging you to my bedroom. I think this only feels nice because it’s been a while since I’ve been hugged by someone bigger than me. Among other things.”

Sephiroth was silent for a moment before it clicked. “… _Oh._ ” He released his hold and took a step back, his hands pulled away in reluctance.

Tifa smirked and smacked Sephiroth in the arm. “Don’t go treating a girl like she’s toxic waste now.” She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “Look, Sephiroth, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you sought someone to talk to instead of just …not. Reaching out to someone, that’s like a huge step and even though I still want to put your lights out every time I see you, I’m glad you came to me anyway.”

Sephiroth raised a brow and tilted his head to the side with consideration for her statement. “You’re welcome?”

“Yes, thank you. I’d really rather you talk to someone than hole yourself up in that apartment. Just, next time, phone me or something first. Especially if it’s miserable out. I’d hate to see it if you really can catch a cold,” said Tifa. She moved around him toward the fridge once more. “Look, you’re here now and I doubt you’ve got anything to eat back at your place, so why don’t you stay for dinner. I’ll even let you chop things.”

Sephiroth’s voice sounded more at ease when he came up beside her to watch what she was doing. “You’re going to let me hold something sharp?”

“I could just make you do the dishes, but then you’d be hanging out here and doing nothing, and I’m pretty sure that’s why you came here in the first place,” said Tifa, as she shoved a small pile of vegetables against his chest for him to put on the table. “You really need a hobby. Something non-destructive.”

“Like what?” The genuinely curious look on his face made Tifa melt a little. It was a rare thing, rarer than him smiling or laughing, to see him openly interested in something, she had discovered.

“I don’t know. Maybe cooking. You follow directions pretty well, and you and Cloud need to eat better than those frozen dinners I _know_ Cloud is investing in,” explained Tifa as she continued to pull out things for make their dinner. She handed the cutting board to Sephiroth as well as a chef’s knife. “Baking is damn near science.”

Sephiroth frowned as he started to shuck ears of corn and pick out the fine hairs from the stalk. “I’m not certain that would work out very well. We only have so much budgeted for food. Most of the money goes toward rent and Cloud’s travel costs,” he replied quietly.

Tifa put a pot of water on the table for Sephiroth to place the ears of corn in and looked at him, one hand on her hip, the other on the table. “Well… how about you get a job?” She held up a hand before he could object. “You could bus for me during the day and play bouncer when the bar opens. I’d rather have a tall, scary looking man at the door instead of me, and Denzel’s been okay at the bar, but I’d rather handle it myself so he can get some sleep at night.”

Sephiroth stopped in the middle of a peel and stared at her. Tifa fidgeted under his gaze; she could tell he wasn’t really looking _at_ her, but thinking. “I accept. The extra money would be a boon and Cloud would not have to worry about where I am when he is out of the area.”

“Exactly. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’d rather have you than some after-market hotshot who’s going to hit on me all night or be bribed at the door.” Tifa smirked and slapped Sephiroth’s shoulder. “I don’t think I have to worry about some girls flashing you for a free pass, do I?”

“The flashing would probably happen anyway, but I’m not sold on appearances alone,” replied Sephiroth. A light smirk graced his lips. “Nor should you be concerned for me sneaking off with your patrons.”

“I know. I feel like a genius,” said Tifa. “Now come on. After dinner, I’ll write up the papers so you’re ‘officially’ a 7Th Heaven employee.”


	8. This and That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth is actually excited for the future. He has a chat with Cloud.

Sephiroth left Tifa’s that evening with his umbrella folded under his arm, a full stomach and a new sense of direction. He saw his new job as an opportunity to leave his old self behind; ShinRa had always provided for him, and the military had been life, not work. Being employed by Tifa would certainly take the strain off of Cloud, and he would have something to himself – his own money, that he could use to buy things.

Trivial little items like souvenirs or magazines, luxuries like desserts and accessories he didn’t even really  _need._ He could even pursue a hobby as Tifa had suggested. The idea of having his own income and having to save it for something nice actually excited him.

_Perhaps I should get a bank account,_ Sephiroth thought to himself. He paused for a traffic light and looked up to wait. As he waited, he mentally recounted the money Tifa had given him as an advance on his first paycheck – a paycheck! – as a token of “good faith” that he’d use it for practical purposes.

He intended to spend it on clothing suited toward his job – He had plenty of black shirts, but Tifa had suggested a couple more pairs of jeans. They were durable and comfortable once broken in, and his jobs wouldn’t require him to look formal at any point.

As he crossed the road when the light changed, Sephiroth felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out when he got to the corner and saw that Cloud had attempted to contact him. He called Cloud back as soon as he got away from the street corner and continued to walk back to the apartment.

“There you are,” answered Cloud, in lieu of a “hello.”

Sephiroth frowned at his phone and replied, “My apologies, Cloud. I am walking home from 7th Heaven.”

There was quiet on the other end. Cloud must have been away from his motorcycle, as Sephiroth could hear people, but no engine. “I… see. Sorry… I just, I called the apartment to check on you…”

“If it makes you feel any better, I left there because I didn’t like being alone. Tifa wasn’t very happy with my unannounced arrival, but she and I… talked.” Sephiroth felt a mixture of ‘pleased’ and ‘annoyed’ that Cloud had felt the need to check on him. “She offered me a job.”

Cloud made a noise on the other end of the phone, like he had taken a drink and swallowed wrong. “A job? You sure it was _Tifa?_ ”

“Yes, Cloud, I am. To bus tables for her during the day and watch the door as her bouncer in the evenings,” he said, a note of pride slipped into his voice.

“Wow, that’s… different,” replied Cloud. He laughed before he continued. “I mean, you’re _Sephiroth,”_ he whispered, like it was a secret. “And you’re going to bus tables and wrangle drunks. It’s kinda funny.”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and stopped walking. He felt heat rise in his blood at Cloud’s mockery. “It’s employment. I thought you would appreciate the monetary help and the knowledge that I won’t be sitting in a dark apartment for days on end,” he snapped.

Cloud went quiet on the other end of the line for a moment. Sephiroth could hear movement, like he left wherever he had been seated before. “I wasn’t trying to make fun, but it’s just… well, you’re _Sephiroth._ The idea that you’re gonna do some mundane, regular work seems… I dunno. Cute.”

“Your adjectives need adjusting, Cloud. I thought this would be a practical use of my time. As well, you know I will be observable at most hours of the day when you are off delivering boxes of Gaia-knows-what,” quipped Sephiroth. “If you’re going to continue to make jokes, I’m going to-“

“Actually, I’m kind of proud of you,” interrupted Cloud.

“What?”

“You heard me. You’re trying to just be a regular guy. That’s not easy for men like us, Sephiroth,” explained Cloud. “I don’t have a lot of minutes left to really get into it, but we can talk when I get back tomorrow night.” He paused another time, then added in: “I’m glad you’re okay, though.”

“Thank you,” said Sephiroth, after a moment of being stunned silent. “I will see you tomorrow night then?”

“Yep. Don’t stay up waiting for me, though. Monsters were a little aggressive in the Grasslands getting out here,” said Cloud. “Goodnight, Sephiroth. See you tomorrow.”

Sephiroth swallowed hard and murmured, “Goodnight, Cloud,” into his phone before he hung up.

He walked the rest of the way home with a feeling of lightness throughout his whole body.

 

The next night, after he had walked home again from 7th Heaven, Sephiroth had a few new things in hand: a schedule for the following week, when he could be expected to start as a busboy, the time off in between bussing and bouncing, as well as a plate of leftovers for Cloud. The oddly buoyant feeling had followed him the whole day, and seemed apparent during the meal, as Tifa commented that he seemed pleased with something. Sephiroth had admitted he could not put his finger on it, but told her about the phone call the previous evening.

The little smile she gave him had only served to mystify him more, but Sephiroth did not bother to examine it. He felt fine, if a little elated, perhaps because this job was the first “normal” thing he ever had. On top of that, he still enjoyed the idea of being able to have his own money and provide for himself instead of being catered to like some spoiled celebrity.

Once he returned to the apartment complex, Sephiroth nodded to one of the neighbors that passed in the hallway, an elderly woman who lived a couple floors below them. He had encountered her a few times in the laundry; he had worried once, that she might recognize him, but she seemed completely oblivious to who he was. Still, she waved to him in passing.

“Good evening, Ms. Bloom,” he said politely.

“Good evening to you, young man. Coming home from your girlfriend’s?” she asked.

“A female friend, yes, but we are not involved. I’m certain she’d hit me if I ever suggested the idea.”

Ms. Bloom looked taken aback by the idea. “Who would want to hit a pretty face like yours? She must be an idiot.”

Sephiroth shook his head and smirked. “No, no, I’m just not her type. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated. What’s so complicated? You’re a man, she’s a woman. Young people, I swear… if I was younger, I wouldn’t pass up someone like you. You’re tall,” said Ms. Bloom as she retrieved her nearly-forgotten mail from her lockbox.

“I appreciate it, but I do not consider myself ‘marketable.’”

Ms. Bloom turned around, her weight pressed into her cane for balance. “It’s that boy you’re shacked up with, then? He’s cute.”

Sephiroth felt heat reach his face for a moment before he shook his head. “I’m not ‘shacked up’ with Cloud. He is merely my roommate. An old …friend, helping me get back on my feet.” Sephiroth felt his stomach sink with his own words, to his confusion. “Thank you, I think, for your concern.”

Ms. Bloom sighed heavily as she hobbled past him toward her door. “I’m just saying, a polite young man like you, who _looks_ like you, shouldn’t be alone. If I was younger…” she repeated, as she opened her apartment door and headed in.

Sephiroth stared after the old woman until her apartment door closed. His thoughts lingered on their conversation and why she seemed so intent on seeing him partnered with someone. It had never entered his mind as a possibility in the past, but after that ‘vision’ of some other reality, it skulked around the back of his thoughts. With Ms. Bloom bringing it up again, it had come to the front again, presented as something he didn’t yet achieve.

“Me, dating,” chuckled Sephiroth with a shake of his head. “Cloud would laugh himself to death,” he muttered to himself. He crossed the lobby to the elevator and hit the button, as he tried to put the idea out of his mind. Instead, it rode with him up four floors to the one with his apartment.

_No,_ Sephiroth reminded himself. _Not mine, ours…_ He stepped down the quiet hallway to their door and unlocked it, then slipped inside. It was still dark, which meant he was going to be alone for a little while longer.

_Just as well,_ he thought as he switched on the light in the entryway and kicked off his shoes. The apartment, spare as it was, was quiet. A few lights from the street cast up a glow through the windows in the living-slash-dining area where they had set up the couch Tifa had given them. Sephiroth turned toward the mini kitchen and put away the plate of food for Cloud, then scrawled a note on a whiteboard so Cloud would know about it when he returned.

With nothing else to do but no desire to go to bed, Sephiroth stretched out on their couch and switched on the television. He had no intention of watching, and simply flipped it to a news station as soon as he got comfortable. The sounds of someone talking made the apartment seem less lonely and made a pleasant murmur in contrast to the sounds from the streets and other tenants he could hear distantly, as they milled about in their own homes.

Even though he had picked up a book with the intent to read to occupy himself, the gentle noises all around Sephiroth lured him into sleep before he could even muster the will to fight it.

 

Sephiroth woke some time later, a little disoriented and stiff from falling asleep on the couch, to the sound of the microwave being set in their mini-kitchen. Sephiroth sat up with a pained groan and rubbed at his neck. He looked down at himself to discover a blanket had been draped over him. He glanced at the television, which was off at that point, then toward the kitchenette. Cloud leaned on the half-wall that separated the kitchen and waved at him.

“I told you to not wait up for me,” said Cloud as he watched Sephiroth get to his feet.

“I didn’t, really…” Sephiroth rubbed at one eye with the knuckles of one hand and pushed his hair back inelegantly from his face with the other as he moved closer. “What time is it?”

“About two in the morning. You were _out._ I thought I would have woken you when I came in, but you didn’t stir, even when I left the blanket over you.” Cloud smirked up at him. Sephiroth noticed that he was out of his normal traveling clothes, having switched over to a white tank and just his boxers.

“I must have been unconscious if you managed to clamor in here and not wake me,” said Sephiroth, his throat dry.

“Hey, I can be sneaky if I want to.” Cloud smirked and turned away as the microwave beeped at them. He pulled out his food and set the plate on the counter. “You were out for a good fifteen minutes until this stupid microwave woke you up,” added Cloud, his hand waved at the device in question.

Sephiroth hummed in his throat and nodded. “I see.” He pulled off his shirt and threw it over his shoulder. He considered going to his room, but Cloud had just gotten back, and he was reluctant to leave. “Can we talk?” he asked instead.

Cloud picked up his plate of food and gestured with his fork. “I guess we can, but it’s kind of late… is something bothering you?”

Sephiroth nodded and avoided immediate talk by going to the fridge for a bottle of water. “It’s not so much a bother, as something that has… been on my mind.” Cloud gestured for him to continue, so he did. “You don’t trust me, yet. Which is entirely understandable. I do not trust myself, either.”

“You know it’s going to take a while, right?” said Cloud, after his first bite.

“Of course.” Sephiroth leaned against the counter beside Cloud and opened his bottle. He paused, the bottle near his lips before he said, “If I ever earn it at all.” Before he allowed Cloud argument, Sephiroth carried on with his train of thought. “Which is part of the reason I took up Tifa’s offer. You have already taken me into your home and come with me… here,” he continued, one hand out to indicate their apartment complex as a whole. “And I don’t think I deserve it.”

Cloud held his fork between his lips a moment before he spoke up. “On principle, no, you probably don’t. But… you said you were tired of fighting and frankly… so am I. Monsters on the road will always be a problem, but this…” Cloud drew circles in the air between them with his fork. “You and I? I’m sick of it. And if your vision-dream-thing was even remotely accurate, that if we keep fighting, we’re never going to stop… I can’t do it. I won’t.” He took another bite of his meal before he concluded, “And I kinda believe you when you say you don’t want to, either.”

Sephiroth nodded at Cloud’s supposition. “Of course. I was tired of it in ShinRa. I wanted someone to honestly beat me and be the new hero, but… no one did.” He pointed the bottle at Cloud. “With one exception.” Cloud made a show of bowing, arms spread and his head low for a moment before righting himself again to finish his food.

“Glad to.”

“And your patience with me is practically saintly. I know I wouldn’t take me in,” said Sephiroth. “Yet you have. You’ve given me a place to live, clothing, and dare I suggest… companionship.”

Cloud chuckled and put his empty plate and for on the counter. “Sephiroth, are you getting sentimental on me? Because I don’t think I can handle that,” he teased.

Sephiroth capped his water bottle and put that aside as well. “Call it sentiment if you wish, but I am grateful. I thought you should know that.”

Cloud looked up at him with a confused smile and shrugged. “You’re welcome, I guess. I mean, it’s really just… ensuring a better future, right?” He turned away and moved around Sephiroth, but Sephiroth caught Cloud’s arm. “What?” The grip was firm, but not violent or harsh. Cloud looked down at Sephiroth’s hand around his biceps and then up at his face.

“I’m trying to be sincere, Cloud.” Sephiroth’s brows pushed up as he looked down at Cloud and tried to keep himself in check. “You’ve done a lot for me when you really don’t have to.”

“I said it’s not a problem, Sephiroth.” Cloud pulled away from Sephiroth again. “Are you… okay?” he asked, a brow rose as he looked up to Sephiroth’s face.

Sephiroth took a deep breath and did not grab for Cloud again. “Not entirely,” he admitted. “As of late, I have felt… exhausted. Even sharing my gratitude is… draining.” He rubbed at his stomach, for lack of anything better to do with his hands. “I do not like vulnerability.”

“No one really does. But you can like who you’re vulnerable with.” Cloud gave him a small smile. “I’m glad you’re trying, though. I can’t promise I’ll have a good response, but I’ll listen if you need it.”

Sephiroth considered Cloud’s offer and gave him a nod. “Very well. I believe I can promise the same, as I’ve never been very good at giving advice that wasn’t regulated to military duties.”

Cloud chuckled at Sephiroth’s response and began to pass him to head to his own room. “That’s fine. I usually go to Vincent or Nanaki for sage wisdom. I’ll probably just bitch and moan about deliveries or whatever to you.” He reached up and patted Sephiroth’s arm as he passed by. “Like right now, I’m beat. I’m going to go collapse on my bed and try to sleep a solid six, at least. Don’t wake me for breakfast.”

Sephiroth smirked a little at Cloud’s blunt request and nodded. “Very well, Cloud. I will see you… eventually, tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Cloud waved over his shoulder at Sephiroth before he shut his door. He called out a hasty “goodnight” as the door slid into place and left Sephiroth alone in the kitchenette. Sephiroth looked toward Cloud’s door for a few moments before he collected his water bottle and went to his own room.

Sephiroth sat on the edge of his bed once inside, and looked at the wall before him. On the other side of it was Cloud’s room, the master bedroom, and the thin structure between them let him hear Cloud shuffle around on his bed until he got comfortable, then all motion on the other side stopped.

Once the apartment was still and quiet again, Sephiroth slipped out of his jeans and let them drop to the floor. He laid back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Thoughts passed through his head as he contemplated what he had to do. He thought about the vision, the other version of himself who was happy and healthy, with a husband and son, who had basically sacrificed his life he had so that Sephiroth even had a chance to live his own. The implications made his head hurt – he had never been in a position to be so selfless before. Every victory had been taken, every act of heroism a calculated military movement – no real bravery on his part. He had never really known fear, not enough to have to overcome it in battle.

Sephiroth rolled onto his side, his back toward the wall he shared with Cloud’s room. He sighed and closed his eyes in an attempt to will himself to sleep.

_Sephiroth, you just learned to hope. I think you’ll be good._ He recalled those words from his other self, the vision of the future speaking to him through the Lifestream.

As he pulled the sheets over his bare legs and around his waist, Sephiroth mulled over those words. _I hope that I can **be** good._


	9. Of Past and Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud and Sephiroth go shopping. A problem arises, Cloud is left in an awkward position. A confrontation is had.

Cloud woke the next morning on his stomach, his tank top bunched up under his armpits and his body stretched as far as it could reach over his mattress. His blanket and top sheet had ended up around his feet and draped onto the floor, and light streamed in at just the right angle to make his rear end feel like it was being roasted. He shifted himself until the sunlight no longer touched his backside and was settled to go back to sleep when it was interrupted by a noise outside his door. A loud BANG and a harshly muttered “Shit!” followed by the sounds of an attempted clean-up had Cloud’s head pulled off of his pillow in confusion.

“Sephiroth!” groaned Cloud, as loud as he could. When he went unanswered, Cloud rolled himself out of bed, went to his bedroom door and pulled it open. “What are you doing out here?” he called as he shuffled out toward the kitchen, only to discover Sephiroth on his hands and knees as he collected bits of egg and chopped vegetables from the linoleum floor.

“I _was_ making myself something to eat, but this damned kitchen is unexpectedly small,” he groused as he attempted to fish something from under the fridge. Cloud grabbed the broom and knelt on the floor to help rescue the wayward mushroom that had fallen.

“What the hell were you making?” asked Cloud as he sat back on his haunches with the mushroom in hand. “That requires this much in it for _breakfast?”_

Sephiroth’s face was a bright pink, either from embarrassment or just being mostly upside down for the previous few minutes as he sat back. “It was an attempt at an omelette, but I knocked the pan off the stove. It is not suited for the left-handed.” He pressed his lips together in a tight frown, nearly a pout.

Cloud’s shoulders started to shake when he felt laughter bubble up from his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments. Sephiroth glared at him ineffectually, but he did calm himself down. “It’s just, we fought in a ruined city, with pieces of building we hurled at each other and here you are, defeated by our shitty little kitchen.” He gathered the remains of Sephiroth’s lost omelette into a pile and helped him sweep them into a bag. “Need a hand?”

Sephiroth frowned and looked away. That was when Cloud noticed that Sephiroth had gathered his hair into a ponytail to keep it off his neck. “You can go back to bed. I will be more careful,” replied Sephiroth, and Cloud snapped out of staring at his shoulders.

“I think I’ll stay up. An omelette sounds pretty good now,” said Cloud as he stood and rubbed at his face. He slapped himself for good measure – to wake himself up. “But if you’re going to cook shirtless, you should have on an apron or the pan is going to spit oil at you.”

Sephiroth looked down at himself as he followed Cloud to his feet. He was in nothing else but the blue jeans he had on the night before, which he hoisted up as he stood. “We don’t have an apron. Besides, a tiny grease burn will not affect me.”

Cloud wrinkled his nose and set the frying pan beside the sink while the water he turned on warmed up to wash it. “Okay, then I think it’ll feel really gross if you get oil all over your stomach.”

“Ah, yes.” Sephiroth looked like he hadn’t thought of that, but a small twitch at the corner of his mouth made Cloud question if there was some purpose to him going shirtless. It wasn’t exactly a new sight; since moving in together, they’d both seen each other in nothing but their underwear already – the inevitable forgetting-to-shut-the-door resulted in Cloud seeing more of Sephiroth than he would have liked. His revenge had been to come in from a local delivery, filthy and sweaty from the road and strip to his skivvies – and lay himself on Sephiroth’s laundry. He grinned to himself as he recalled the reaction: Sephiroth’s eyes had gone wide in barely-controlled fury until he had crossed the room and yanked Cloud off of his clothes. Ending up with rug burn on his arms from the tumble had been worth the look on Sephiroth’s face.

“What are you smiling for?” asked Sephiroth as he had started to remake his breakfast. He took his eyes off the pan long enough to catch Cloud’s attention before he kept watch again. It looked to Cloud that he did not intend for this meal to get away.

Cloud chuckled at Sephiroth’s breakfast vigilance and shook his head. “Just thought of something funny,” he said casually. If he brought up the laundry incident, he was going to end up with a hot skillet in his face, he was certain. “Have you started as Tifa’s bus-boy yet?”

“No. She generously gave me an advance so that I could supply myself with a few things before I begin. Work clothing, a wallet.” Sephiroth carefully folded over his omelette like he might have been folding fine silk. “It’s odd to think of the many necessities I’ve gone without that others take for granted.”

Cloud’s goofy grin faded to a softer smile. “You seem to be really embracing this whole ‘civilian’ thing. It’s kinda…”

“If you call me ‘cute’ again, I cannot be held responsible for my reaction,” threatened Sephiroth as he plated his (finally) successful omelette. To Cloud’s surprise, Sephiroth offered it to him instead of making him prepare his own meal. “I am just realizing how much of a life I missed. Even in death, my failing mind was occupied with revenge and darkness. You may find it endearing, but starting anew, no expectations, no agenda… it is rather exciting.”

Cloud thanked Sephiroth before he took a bite of his breakfast and let out a soft hum of approval when he responded. “Mmm…But you’ve been around the world. You literally walked from one side of the continent to the other, and lead missions in Wutai…”

“Cloud.” Sephiroth looked at him, his brow furrowed slightly and his lips drawn into a line. He looked away to grab more eggs for himself from the egg carton. “Everything I had done in the name of ShinRa… or Jenova… was all for someone else.” He paused to crack the eggs into a bowl and toss their shells before he continued. “Even with the few companions I had… I was not alive. I existed, for someone else. I realize this now.”

Cloud paused with his empty fork against his lips and watched Sephiroth. His eyes were on the frying pan and he had gone quiet. Cloud cleared his throat when he realized he was staring at Sephiroth’s solemn profile. “You’ve really been thinking about this,” he said softly. He put his plate aside on the counter and reached over to put a hand on Sephiroth’s forearm. “I’m glad you have.”

Sephiroth’s faint smile and slight flush of the cheeks made Cloud’s heart jump for a moment before he looked back to his plate and continued to eat. “Any plans for today?” he asked. He kept his gaze on his food so as to remain casual in his change of topic.

“Shopping, for the most part. I find the idea a little exciting and somewhat intimidating,” replied Sephiroth as he plated up his own breakfast. “Care to join me?”

Cloud chuckled and grinned at Sephiroth as he stood beside the stove, having begun to eat right there by the counter. “Need me to hold your hand? Want some fashion advice?”

“On the contrary. I simply thought it would help having another’s opinion on my appearances. Even informally, I am certain I come off as intimidating. I would like to try to avoid looking like I’m trying to destroy the Planet… again.” Sephiroth had his head bowed for a moment before he changed tone so fast Cloud thought he might have whiplash. “I have no real subjective views of myself, and I am certain I would merely pick out whatever fit, not something that fits… ‘me.’”

Cloud put down his empty plate and restrained his smile to a polite one. “You’re asking me to help you look good. You don’t want to look sloppy.” A childishly vindictive part of himself told Cloud he could take Sephiroth to his ‘old friend’ down in Wall Market, but he did want Sephiroth to trust him. He made a promise to coax Sephiroth into the specialty dress shop another day. “All right. I know some good places.”

Sephiroth appeared to regard his statement and paused as he gave Cloud’s face a careful study. Cloud wondered if Sephiroth had a way to read his mind and then immediately shoved that worrisome idea under more pleasant ideas. He didn’t need to think about Sephiroth and mental telepathy today. Not if he was going to be helping him shop for clothes.

“Very well. I think I’d like to walk, if you don’t mind. I do not want to pile onto your motorcycle with shopping bags,” said Sephiroth. After he put his plate beside the sink to wash later, Sephiroth reached to untie his hair. Cloud nearly leaped across the kitchen to stop him. Sephiroth turned and stared down at Cloud, and Cloud stared up, hand on Sephiroth’s wrist and felt his face heat up considerably.

“Uh, you should keep it up… you’ll be changing often anyway. You’ll just get tangled,” offered Cloud as his brain caught up with him and asked him what the hell he had done. He jerked his hands off of Sephiroth’s forearm; Sephiroth considered his idea and nodded.

“As you wish.”

 

It was a lovely day, if a little crowded as they walked, side by side, through Edge to the local mall. Sephiroth had kept his eyes hidden by sunglasses, though most people seemed to ignore either of them, as they all had lives of their own and places to be. Cloud had put on a hoodie despite the warm sun, but he felt comfortable enough. It was Sephiroth he was concerned for. The man had been sheltered from most of the “real world” as far as Cloud knew, for much of his life. As General and something of a celebrity, he had been used to people simply getting out of his way wherever he went in Midgar. Now that the plate was gone, and Sephiroth little more than Shinra’s darkest stain in the history books, people too young to remember to fear silver haired men nearly walked into him, and those who might remember the war avoided him as a whole, but said nothing in passing.

Cloud noticed that those who avoided Sephiroth or gave him dirty looks were still reluctant to approach him; either they believed him another of the SOLDIER experiments or one of the men who had taken children hostage just a few years earlier. Cloud could only speculate what went on in their heads as they passed.

 

It was still early enough in morning that when they reached the little mall, that it was rather quiet. A few people here and there who had stopped in on their way to work or just after they sent their kids to school. They would mostly have the place to themselves.

Cloud translated the mall’s confusing directory and led the way to a store that specialized in clothing for “Men of Great Stature” (as the Big N’ Tall store advertised). Sephiroth muttered something about still being “too special” to shop in a regular store; Cloud just elbowed him playfully.

“You’re pretty statuesque, Seph. And you have ridiculously long legs. Be glad you’re not a chick. It’s even harder for tall women to find something. Tifa’s not that tall but even she has trouble sometimes. Ask her about pockets sometime if you’ve got an hour to kill.”

Sephiroth frowned at the idea altogether and reluctantly stepped under the store’s overhead banner touting a sale. “Everything I owned until recently was all tailor-made. Tifa has my sympathies. Clothing should cater to all, not some…” he frowned and gestured toward a display. “Mannequin.”

Cloud laughed at Sephiroth’s obvious disgust. “Hey, those are supposed to reflect a national average!” he defended. Sephiroth just scowled harder.

“Average. Even ShinRa had size variation…”

“Stop complaining. Do that when we’re not going to be eaten by retail employees for standing around and not buying anything.” Cloud latched a hand over Sephiroth’s elbow and drew him toward the “Tall” section and away from the suit separates. He pulled until they were by a clearance rack and started to fish through the denim options.

“Why are we shopping clearance?” muttered Sephiroth. Cloud noticed him imitate how Cloud pawed through the rack and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. It was probably crazy, but Cloud thought he must have imprinted on Sephiroth like a Chocobo; why else would he keep mimicking him?

“Because we have to maximize your haul. You’re not a fashion model, so no one’s really going to care if your style’s off by a season or two,” explained Cloud as he held up a pair of black jeans in Sephiroth’s size. “Think of it as another learning experience. Looking good on a budget is totally doable.”

“I see,” he replied, as he began to slide his fingers between the hanging items. Sephiroth picked out a few pairs of black jeans – to no surprise on Cloud’s part – and turned away from Cloud toward the register. Cloud nearly dropped the shirt he held up to himself when he saw Sephiroth start to leave.

“Where are you going? You have to try those on,” called Cloud. Sephiroth stopped and turned his face a mask of uncertainty that Cloud hadn’t seen before. “What? C’mon, don’t be a dork. You’re gonna have to try those on here. I’m not running back and forth again if you find out they don’t fit.” The previous times, when Sephiroth had just come to Edge, were different. All he had to wear then was his old SOLDIER uniform, and at that point, it was suicidally stupid for him to go out in his iconic coat. Things were different.

Cloud snatched Sephiroth by his wrist before he could protest and dragged him over to the changing rooms at the other side of the store. Sephiroth attempted to resist, but only barely; Cloud believed he understood the situation. Once they got the attention of a smiling employee, the door to the changing room was unlocked and Cloud happily shoved Sephiroth inside with an armful of discounted jeans.

“I feel like Mama…” he grumbled to himself as he stepped a short distance away to inspect another rack nearby as Sephiroth tried pants on.

Or so he thought. At least ten minutes passed before Sephiroth said anything to him, or came out, or even threw a pair over the top like a normal human being. Cloud reminded himself that Sephiroth had been denied a “normal” existence, and approached the door. He gave it a soft knock and murmured near the door jamb, “Everything okay? You didn’t get stuck with a pin or something, did you?”

Cloud nearly jumped back when the door opened slightly; Sephiroth’s hand shot out and seized Cloud by his jacket and dragged him inside. The door shut again and Cloud found himself trapped in a very small space with a very large man.

He looked Sephiroth over and noticed that other than taking off his boots, Sephiroth had not even unclipped his choices from their respective hangers. Sephiroth looked at him with wide eyes and a tight-lipped frown. “I have been waiting for you to come back near the door,” Sephiroth whispered, but not very quietly. “I have a problem.”

Cloud’s eyes swept over him, hunched over in the crowded space so as to not draw attention. He backed up as far as he could and was hit in the knees with the room’s built-in seat, which he promptly fell on. “What do you mean ‘a problem?’ Don’t tell me you’re stuck! What if someone saw you grab me?! They probably think we’re trying to get it on in here!” Cloud stage-whispered back.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He bowed his head and sighed, ponytail flopped over his shoulder as he seemed to gather himself before he did something incredibly foolish. “I need you to get me something,” he said, as he fished out his wallet and some of the money Tifa had granted him.

Cloud looked at the money at the growing pink stain on Sephiroth’s face. “…What do you need?” he asked with a slight turn away from Sephiroth. The fact that the world’s terror was _blushing_ over his request made Cloud **more** suspicious, not less.

After a quiet moment, Sephiroth murmured, “Underwear” before he cleared his throat and completely avoided eye contact with him.

Cloud felt his jaw drop at the word as it sunk in what had happened. “YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU WENT CLOTHES SHOPPING- NO, _PANTS SHOPPING, **COMMANDO!?”**_ Cloud’s voice squeaked as he tried to keep it low. He didn’t want to yell to get the employees attention and have them caught in an already-suspect looking situation with the two of them in the confined space, but to have the whole store also know that Sephiroth, in some strike of either stupidity or vanity or something else unidentifiable, had gone without his underwear.

“I did not think I would be trying anything on!” hissed Sephiroth, much of his usual calm and decorum gone in the wake of being whisper-yelled at. “I thought it would be like before, where I tried things on in the comfort – and _privacy –_ of the apartment!” he continued as he shoved money at Cloud’s chest.

Cloud grabbed his hand and held onto it. Not like Sephiroth could really storm away from him, but the man wasn’t going to turn away either. “I know you’ve been sheltered but you _seriously_ thought you could just buy pants? That’s not how it works! I’m not running in circles just so you can—“

“Is everything all right, sir?”

The sound of the clerk’s voice made them both freeze up and stare at the door in mute horror. Cloud drew his legs up and prayed she hadn’t seen that there were _two_ pairs of feet, not just the one.

“Sir?”

Sephiroth swallowed and stood up, tall enough so that he could see over the top. “Ah, yes, I am still deciding, thank you,” he said. Cloud marveled at how he had pulled off lying straight to the woman’s face when just a second ago they were having a quiet argument.

“All right. Let me know if you need anything,” she said. Sephiroth remained where he was by the door and turned away when Cloud heard her greet someone else who must have come in. Sephiroth turned back to Cloud and gestured for him to stand.

“You know what size I wear, yes?”

Cloud nodded and ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I remember. But for future reference, don’t make this mistake again. I’ve gotta go through the rest of today knowing you’re currently not wearing underwear.” As if to confirm it, his traitorous eyes snapped to Sephiroth’s hips, where his low-slung jeans gave Cloud a peek at a bare hip bone and pale skin. Cloud swallowed as Sephiroth cracked the fitting room door open enough for him to escape; the employees were located beyond his line of sight, so Cloud took the opportunity to dart out and over toward the Men’s Basics section.

Once there, Cloud picked out a pair of hideously yellow jockeys in Sephiroth’s size, complete with overly fat, pink Moogles all over them and “Kupo!” printed in between in baby blue block letters. As soon as he made the purchase, Cloud stomped back toward the changing rooms and threw the bag over the top of the door. The surprised yelp of the bag hitting Sephiroth in the head, followed by his disgusted groan over the chosen pair was worth the headache, in Cloud’s opinion.

 

After soon as he had changed and made his purchases, Cloud took Sephiroth out to the rest of the mall. He treated himself to a new set of cycling goggles and a tee shirt, and then introduced Sephiroth to the wonders of window-shopping. As they had perused most of the available stores and even the small movie theatre, Cloud felt hungry and decided Sephiroth should treat him to lunch by way of the food court. There weren’t many options that sounded appealing and even fewer that might have been healthy, but Cloud honed in on a particular vendor who carried all sorts of tasty, fried things.

Once they had settled in with Cloud’s fries covered in an unthinkable amount of “cheese” and brown gravy, and Sephiroth with a smoothie with three kinds of fruit and a little whipped cream, Cloud’s annoyance had subsided.

“I’ve gotta get you used to being out in the world,” said Cloud as he washed down a mouthful of fried food with his soda. “I hate to use this analogy, but I feel like today’s trip has proven what a spoiled prince you were in ShinRa.”

“I’m not-“

Cloud sighed and waved off Sephiroth’s interjection. “I just mean I forget you’re used to a certain lifestyle, even though you were military. There’s only so much that they let you participate in that it’s kind of…sad. Like the ‘isolated prince’ thing sounds more like a fairy tale. And I’m the tricky little thief that stole you away…” He chuckled and dredged a few fries through the gravy. “Even though it’s absolutely nothing like that. You were more like the prince who became the dragon. Or something.”

Sephiroth sipped at his drink a moment as he contemplated. “Perhaps I am a cursed prince. Such things existed in fairy tales, did they not? ShinRa was both my wicked witch and the very castle that kept me from the world, protecting me… and the world _from_ me.”

Cloud sat up a little at Sephiroth’s words and reached over to touch his arm when a woman who had been lingering nearby approached them. Cloud looked up at her from his seat, but Sephiroth tried to ignore her.

“Did I hear you say you worked for ShinRa?” she demanded. Her hot gaze was right on Sephiroth’s profile. Cloud noticed, belatedly, that Sephiroth’s sunglasses were clipped to his shirt. One look at his eyes was enough proof that he was in the SOLDIER program – if she remembered the detail of Sephiroth’s pupils, he’d be outed completely. “Well, did you?”

“Yes,” replied Sephiroth, his voice quiet. Cloud noticed his hand tighten its grip on the edge of the table they sat at. “They were a large part of the world.”

“SOLDIER was a large part of the world all right. They terrified people,” started the woman, her hand on one hip. “Who they didn’t scare, they bullied into joining them.”

Cloud frowned; he certainly joined for the wrong reasons, but he failed to see her point. “Ma’am, my friend and I are trying to enjoy our food in peace. We’ve done nothing to—“

“You’re one of them, too! I can see it in your eyes! The Mako Glow! And your ‘friend’ here has that long gray hair like their leader. I don’t know why you’d want to look like that man. He was a monster!” she said.

Sephiroth’s grip on the table shifted slightly, enough to crack the resin top and the particle board underneath. “Ma’am, Sephiroth was not a monster,” he said as calmly as possible, but his voice came out strained. Cloud stared at the side of his head and reached out to put a hand on his arm again.

“I don’t care what you say! He led those bullies into Wutai and tried to enslave a country. All in the name of some _company!_ Corporations do not _need_ an army, so why did they have one? Why did they have someone who looked like a male model as the face of their company? Because he wasn’t real.”

Cloud had stood to get rid of the woman, baffled by her logic. “Sephiroth was real, ma’am. I’ve met him. He wasn’t a model or an actor, but a real person. Now please leave us in peace. There is no ShinRa anymore.”

At the same time, another woman, a younger one, had come up behind the woman who preached at them. She tried to pry away the older woman, to little success. “Mom, please, just leave them alone…”

 “Sephiroth was a fake! ShinRa were con artists! SOLDIERS were monsters they made to terrorize anyone they wished!” she yelled. At that point, several other patrons at the mall had stood to see what was going on. Mall security had arrived and began to escort the woman away. Her daughter apologized in between her mother’s shouts. “ShinRa tried to blame Meteorfall on someone else! They got my husband killed! They’re all monsters!” were heard until the woman had been removed from the food court area.

Cloud sat back down and pulled his chair closer. Everyone else went back to what they had been doing, and left them in peace. “You okay? You… took that well…” he offered. He could see Sephiroth’s jaw tighten and relax, the tendon in his cheek stood out with every movement.

“I’d like to go home, now,” replied Sephiroth. He stared ahead at nothing; he had not looked at the woman nor tried to defend himself when she berated him and his past, even if she didn’t seem to realize she spoke to the very man she thought was a phony. “Quickly.”

Cloud nodded and stood again, even took up Sephiroth’s bag. He dumped the remains of their lunch into a nearby trash can and returned. Sephiroth had yet to stand on his own, so Cloud encouraged him with a hand under his arm. Once he’d gotten to his feet, Cloud guided him out of the mall and down to a taxi stand outside. Sephiroth remained silent and despondent the whole way out.

He got Sephiroth stuffed into a cab as soon as one stopped and gave the cabbie their address. As they pulled away, Cloud finally leaned back beside Sephiroth and tried to engage him in conversation. “Hey, you know, you did pretty well back there. I’m not sure I would have stayed quiet.”

“You didn’t,” pointed Sephiroth. His eyes were trained ahead of them, over the passenger’s seat toward the road. “You tried to defend me.”

“Well…” Cloud rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s not your fault,” he said. Sephiroth did look at him then, but his face was unreadable.

“Much of it is.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Cloud, his voice low. The cabbie didn’t need to know what had just happened in the mall – and they didn’t need another stranger’s unwarranted opinion, either. “ShinRa…” Cloud sighed and leaned back in his seat. He looked up at the cab’s roof and tried to gather his thoughts. As much as he liked to think that the last few weeks had improved his opinion of Sephiroth, there was still so much left on the table to discuss.

“We don’t need to talk about it,” replied Sephiroth, as if reading his mind. When Cloud looked at him again, he noticed Sephiroth had taken down his hair, forming that silver wall between them that had Cloud thought they were past. “She was right.”

“Se—No, she wasn’t. We’ll talk about this when we get back, okay?” Cloud felt helpless. Actual monsters, fiends between towns and those that hid in the city’s walls, which could be handled easily? Those were easy to deal with. Human beings, who did monstrous things, made monstrous people… much harder. Even more difficult was when he tried to help the one who had occupied so much of Cloud’s own existence. Still, there might have been a way. The day had started well; it was possible to salvage it.

“Let’s get back to the apartment first. I’ll give Tifa a ring so she won’t worry about me, and then mute my phone. We can have a quiet night.”

Sephiroth looked at Cloud in a way that puzzled him. Sephiroth’s eyes widened, but were glassy, and his mouth was slack. “A quiet night?” he asked hoarsely.

Cloud nodded and turned in the seat to face him. “Yeah. It’s something I kinda… came up with, after you… last left,” he said carefully, mindful of the driver. “Whenever I had a shitty day, I would just kinda hole up with whoever was available and just…” Cloud trailed there. “It sounds kind of dumb, but I’d take care of me. Or whoever needed it. Denzel had a lot of quiet nights after… um… he was healed.”

Sephiroth blinked and turned away. He smoothed back some of his bangs, but Cloud could see him discreetly wipe at his eyes. “That would be nice,” he replied after a moment. “Though it is rather early to call it ‘a night.’”

“It’s useful for whatever time,” returned Cloud. He scooted closer and pushed himself against Sephiroth’s side. “And whoever needs it. I can rent movies, order a pizza… or just leave you alone. Well, not _alone_ -alone. You know what I mean.”

Sephiroth nodded and remained quiet. He stayed that way for the rest of the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everybody who left kudos and comments up to this point, even everybody who just read it: THANK YOU! This story is a big deal to me and I very much appreciate anyone who takes the time to give it a look! Thank you all for being patient with me; I hope I continue to satisfy!


	10. Parallel Tense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between chapters 8&9, Cid and Vincent start an investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit short; I had started it to unclog some writer's block and it suddenly became plot-relevant. :D

Vincent’s phone rarely rang. His number had been given to only a few individuals, with instructions that he only be contacted if necessary. He did not wish to be called just to listen to another speak when he rarely possessed the desire to talk himself.

So when it did ring, lit up with Cid’s name and phone number, he considered that it must have been for an emergency. It did not occur to him, when he did answer, that Cid’s “emergency” could have been something else entirely.

“Vincent, we’ve got a fuckin’ problem!” shouted Cid. Vincent held the phone a few inches away from his head and resisted the urge to hang up. “Cloud’s fuckin’ either lost it again or the world’s comin’ to another end an’ I don’t think I can take another goddamn apocalypse!”

“Cid?”

“An’ on top’a that, Tifa’s backin’ him on this little venture. I jus’ can’t believe these fuckin’ numbskulls! They’re gonna put me in a goddamned early grave!” shouted Cid.

“Cid.”

“I mean, we jus’ dealt with that Omega bullshit, an’ fuckin’ Deepground…”

“ _Chief.”_

There was silence on Cid’s end and Vincent thought he could finally hold the phone to his ear without being immediately subjected to an onslaught of cussing. “Would you please explain?” he asked his deep voice calm as ever. Vincent could hear Cid huff and the flick of his lighter as he sparked up another cigarette on his end.

“Sephiroth’s back. Cloud’s brought him back to Edge an’ I jus’ checked in with Tifa, and she’s told me that they’ve got an apartment, an’ she even gave the bastard a job!” Cid could be heard to grumble incoherently, but Vincent picked up “always knew he was an idiot” among the other ramblings.

“If the world is ending, Cid, would we have not been assembled to help put a stop to it?” asked Vincent, still calm on his end of the line.

Cid grunted and Vincent heard him take a long draw from his cigarette again. “Yeah, but… I jus’ dunno what to make’a this and I was hopin’ some of your worldly knowledge woul’ put me at ease,” he admitted with a soft chuckle.

“Mm, I see. What is your location? I can meet you. I prefer to impart worldly knowledge in person,” replied Vincent.

“’Bout to land outside’a Junon. Where are you? Usual place?”

Vincent looked up at the crystalline structure he sat beneath, the cool Mako glow radiating from the walls and from Lucrecia’s tomb. “Yes. I will see you shortly,” said Vincent before he hung up with Cid.

 

Not twenty minutes later, Vincent, as he stood outside the cavern, felt the wind shift as the _Shera_ roared overhead. A chain-link ladder was dropped before him and Vincent scaled up the rungs effortlessly and reached the hatch opened to him. Inside, eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, and his gaze swept over the room as Cid approached him

“Hey, good ta see ya. How’s, uh… you know?” Cid always looked uncomfortable if he brought up Lucrecia – Vincent could appreciate Cid’s superstition about visiting a grave. He had a healthy respect for the dead, and though a man of science, he still retained a few folksy traditions from his home on the Western Continent. It was a habit that Vincent found endearing; Cid still held his roots close. As it was, Lucrecia’s crypt was hardly a place most people would visit without getting chills.

“She is… well,” Vincent said quietly. “Your news seems to coincide with some fluctuations I noticed within her chamber,” he added. He began to walk alongside of Cid, who escorted him to the bridge. The few crewmembers they passed tipped their hats or bowed their heads in acknowledgement of Vincent. “How long has he been back?”

Cid shrugged and fiddled with a his cigarette pack, pulled one out, but tucked it over his ear instead of lighting it immediately. “Few weeks now. Tifa let’im stay for about a month ‘fore she kicked’em out, as I understand it. They’ve been at a new place fer a while, but she ain’t been to see’em. Can’t say I blame her.”

“Mm.” Vincent nodded his head in agreement. “They are within the city?”

“Yeah, some place in an apartment complex. She gave me the address.”

Vincent nodded once more and buried his face under his cowl. “Where did he appear?”

“Ajit. Cloud didn’ give me any details when they hitched a ride back t’the city. All’s I know is he showed up, there weren’t much of a fight, an’ then they came outta the forest together. Cloud fucked up his arm, though. Damn near thought he’d meant to cleave it offa him, but I guess th’ bastard’s part lizard or somethin’. He just sewed that shit back on.”

Vincent listened and pondered this information as he took a spot in the shadiest corner of Cid’s bridge, near the “stern” of the airship. “I would like to visit Ajit.”

Cid did not question his request. He just gave Vincent the thumbs up and then turned to his crew. “Awright, ya lazy asses! Ya heard’im! We’re bringin’ this bird ta Ajit!”

 

The flight from Junon to Ajit had them travel overnight, and by dawn they had reached the lower peninsula of the Northern Continent. Cid and Vincent had struck out on their own by way of a four-wheeled monstrosity that Cid had reconstructed himself. It was a noisy beast of a machine, but it was serviceable for their journey.

A few hours into the day had them arrive at the archaeological site, and from there, through the Sleeping Forest. Cid held onto a trailing piece of Vincent’s tattered cloak as they walked; Vincent never had any problems with the forest’s infamous hypnotic effects as he had visited frequently enough.

Once they were in the city, they stopped at the edge of the lake where Aerith had been laid to rest. The forest around them was silent and glowed as bright as ever, even despite the considerable damage it had suffered because of Sephiroth’s clones.

“This place gives me th’ willies,” muttered Cid. He looked above them to the shimmering treetops and wondered how such a place managed to make his skin crawl, even if it was probably a hallowed area.

“You are not used to the unconventional nature around you. If you had studied botany instead of astrophysics, you would be excited to be here,” replied Vincent. His gaze lingered on the water that lapped almost soundlessly at the lake shore. The pearlescent sand in front of them glimmered, as clean as polished silver. One would not think that a very short time ago, the waters had seen Jenova’s attempted corruption of the lake.

“Cloud said that Sephiroth had appeared here?” asked Vincent. Cid tore his eyes away from the ghostly branches overhead and nodded.

“Yeah, some kinda pod or somethin’. Said it was like, well… kinda like when he first came back. Like Mako crystals.”

Vincent lowered his head to hide a slight frown. _Lucrecia,_ he thought as he recalled the tomb he had left just the night before. “I am going into the water,” he said. He disarmed himself, Death Penalty handed over to Cid, who just stared at him.

“You wanna run that by me again?” Cid looked at the long holster and then to Vincent’s patient, calm expression. “Yer goin’ in unarmed?”

“Water would make my weapon ineffective. I will go in as Galian Beast. The tail will provide ample steerage, and I will be faster,” explained Vincent. Once Cid had taken his weapon, Vincent began to undress as well. Cid yelped and looked away; before he had a chance to sound offended, Vincent continued: “If I need to transform back to myself, my clothing would soak through immediately and I would drown.”

Cid nodded vigorously, his head bobbed up and down like an anxious Chocobo. “Awright, I get it. You wanna skinny dip fer clues. What am I s’posed to do? I ain’t got magic powers to go with ya.”

“Wait for me,” replied Vincent. He unwrapped his hair and dropped the bandana on top of his clothes. Just before he turned away, Vincent noticed Cid kept his eyes elsewhere around them. “Does the sight of my body offend you?” questioned Vincent, though he was not immediately offended. He presumed Cid simply did not want to look at him – modern men had unusual habits about one another.

What he did not expect, though, was for Cid to give him a startled look, as if he _had_ offended Vincent. “It ain’t like I don’t wanna look,” said Cid, his eyes locked on Vincent like he might be an enemy instead of an ally. “I mean, uh… well, I figure… you were… ashamed?”

Vincent raised a brow at Cid’s leap in logic and shook his head. “My body is a vessel for monsters. I am nothing short of a walking horror story,” he replied calmly. “My shame lies in my past. I do not see…” he paused and gestured down his body with his good hand. Cid’s eyes followed his hand’s path down, then snapped back up to his face. “…this, as anything significant.”

Cid frowned at him and shook his head. “Yer way more’an a vessel, Vince. But we ain’t got time fer that discussion now. You get lookin’ an’ I’ll get ta waitin’,” replied Cid. Vincent did not understand the look of frustration he read on Cid’s face, but he silently agreed. Discussions could be had at another time.

Vincent turned away from Cid and waded into the water. Once it had gotten about waist-deep, Vincent allowed his body to shift into his Galian form and he dove beneath the water’s surface, into deep waters.

-*-*-*-

Cid carried Vincent’s clothing back toward a large rock that sat near the water’s edge and stabbed Venus Gospel into the dirt nearby. For lack of anything better to do, he began to fold Vincent’s clothing and made a pile beside himself. The cloak had proven the most difficult, as the tattered edges seemed to grasp and cling to any available button or zipper on his jacket. Once they were folded, Cid tucked his legs under himself and started to hum.

After a short while, he began to feel drowsy with boredom. The surrounding forest’s gentle susurrations around him helped make the pull to sleep even stronger. So Cid got to his feet and started to run in place, shuffle back and forth; any little movement to keep his blood pumping. As he worked himself into a more awake sense, the glowing trees overhead shifted with a great wind.

Cid looked up at the treetops and stopped his movements so he could listen. Another gust of wind shook the branches and caused what few leaves they had to break off and flutter down around him. The lake waters rippled outward from farther out than Vincent had disappeared under. Cid pulled Venus Gospel out of the dirt and looked up as a shape descended from above.

A man, with one black wing over his left shoulder, cloaked in a long red coat, dropped to the water’s surface. Though his form should have been quite dense, it appeared to Cid that he _stood_ on the lake rather than in it. Cid braced himself for attack, but the man paid him no mind; the stranger seemed occupied with something else.

As Cid watched, the man drew a red-bladed sword from his hip and held it out over the water. Though the man did not speak directly to him, Cid could hear him say:

_“My soul, corrupted by vengeance… Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey. In my own salvation… And your eternal slumber,”_ over the blade as he held it, point toward the water and then released it. Like the man, the sword did not drop into the water, but remained upright, balanced on its tip. Water circled around the sword in fine tendrils until they reached the hilt and converged at the top. There, the water formed a sphere, which the man in red gestured over with one hand. He leaned closer to examine whatever it was he saw when Cid called out.

Cid realized he should have kept his mouth shut a little too late, but he could not help himself. As he had heard the man speak, memories from a distant past started to come back. The single wing, the long coat – which reminded him of Sephiroth – but most importantly, the poetry.

“Hey! Wha’d’ya think yer doin’?!” shouted Cid. A name sat on Cid’s tongue as he tried to evoke it. The man’s head snapped up from where he studied whatever he looked at and cast him a fearsome look.

“You should not be here,” said the man. He raised his right arm toward Cid; energy gathered from an unseen Materia in his palm. _“All that awaits you is a somber morrow, no matter where the winds may blow,”_ he recited as the energy shot out from his hand.

Cid felt his whole body convulse and tense up as electricity shot through his nerves and dropped him flat on his back. He wheezed with strain as he tried to breathe again. His body burned all over as if he’d run for miles without stop. Every muscle ached and twitched with the jolt from the powerful Bolt spell he’d been hit with. Just before he blacked out, Cid recalled a name.

_**Genesis.** _


	11. Quiet Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud and Sephiroth have a night in; emotions are felt, hugs are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings of note: thoughts of self-mutilation, mentions of suicide. The beginning gets a little racy, but nothing explicit.

They got home in record time, even when one considered the traffic between the mall and their apartment complex. In passing, they greeted Ms. Bloom in the hallway as they headed upstairs. Cloud remained quiet beside Sephiroth, which he appreciated. He did not feel like talking until they had some relative privacy.

Cloud unlocked their door and took their bags to their respective rooms and left Sephiroth to take off his jacket and boots, which he left by the small alcove as he headed toward the living room. Sephiroth sank onto the couch with slow, deliberate movements. His body itched and he felt warm. Cloud came back in a few minutes to sit beside him, one hand placed on Sephiroth’s shoulder with delicate care. He both wanted to rip Cloud’s arm off for daring to touch him and wanted to pull him closer for being brave enough to try.

“I’d ask if you’re all right, but I can tell you’re not,” he said as he gave Sephiroth’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I’m gonna start the shower and give Tifa a buzz. I think you should get washed up and put on your pajamas.”

“Why?”

Cloud took a deep breath and smiled at him; Sephiroth wondered how he could smile after what they’d been subjected to. “Because you need it. Sometimes, physically washing yourself off kinda helps to get rid of the gross feelings. You wash up, I’ll make sure we’re not bothered for the night.”

Sephiroth just stared at him. That scraped-raw feeling was back again. It seemed to pop up whenever Cloud looked at him too kindly or treated him too sweetly. “Why are you doing this for me?”

Cloud’s smile faltered but he persevered and scooted closer to Sephiroth. His hand moved from Sephiroth’s shoulder to the small of his back. Even though he looked up at Sephiroth, he felt smaller than Cloud now. “Because I’m not going to let you stew in self-loathing again.”

Sephiroth frowned and looked down. Cloud’s sincerity had a way of making him lose his grip on his sense of superiority, as if Cloud had burrowed into him somehow and made him feel exposed. He rubbed at one arm with the palm of his hand and stood up quickly and left the couch. “I can start my own shower,” he said, Cloud’s voice chased him as he spoke his name and Sephiroth nearly slammed the bathroom door as a result.

Once inside, he started the water and then closed the toilet and sat on the lid. He took slow, deep breaths and reached up to run his fingers through his bangs. As he did, he spotted the mark just on the inside of his right wrist. A perfectly printed “1” right on the inside, over his veins, stark black against his pale skin, a small reminder of the experiment he was. He wanted to chew it off like an animal, or break open one of Cloud’s razors and use the fine blade to slice it away, but irrational fear that it would simply grow back like the rest of his skin, coupled with the desire to not alarm Cloud by bleeding from the wrist kept his want just that, want, without mutilation.

As steam began to flow out of their shower, Sephiroth leaned back with his eyes closed and took slow, deep breaths to calm himself down. He tried to not dwell on the woman’s words from earlier, but they rang a little too true to him.

_Sephiroth was a fake!_

It could have been humorous, he thought, if he’d simply spoken up, risen from his seat and towered over the poor civilian, one who clearly had no idea that she screamed over the very head of the man she claimed to be a fraud. But there was _some_ truth to what she’d said – he’d never been a hero, not really. “Hero” was a word ShinRa slapped on him like a copyrighted logo, along with other abused language like “Warrior,” and “Great.”

Sephiroth stood after a few moments of contemplation and stripped himself naked and stepped into the shower. As he stood under the scalding water, he heard the door open just a crack; he watched Cloud, from the corner of his eye, reach in and blindly lay a pair of pajama pants by the sink. He could see well enough that Cloud covered his eyes with his free hand. Just the sight made Sephiroth chuckle softly before he called out “Thank you, Cloud.”

“Huh? Oh, no problem,” was the reply, while Cloud’s hand gave him a ‘thumbs up’ before he withdrew and shut the door completely.

Sephiroth took a deep breath of water vapor and let the steam help clear his head. He scrubbed idly at himself, not truly filthy, but something about the act had, as Cloud suggested, the placebo effect of washing away the woman’s hateful words. As he cleansed himself, he remembered another “quiet night,” one in a future belonging to another self, a version of him that had somehow earned the love and admiration of another Cloud.

He recalled, in almost perfect clarity, soft lips and gentle touches by time-weathered hands. Soft words of love and encouragement like he had never heard before from the last man, last _person_ , he’d ever think could say them. In the present, Sephiroth could see where Cloud was like the older version of himself, kind and almost needlessly gentle to him, but Sephiroth had no idea what he was to Cloud.

Sephiroth didn’t even know how to feel about himself. Anything about Cloud’s feelings was speculative.

That did not stop, however, the desire to have him. Sephiroth stooped in the shower and washed his legs. His hands slowed around his thighs. He bit his lip and changed his focus to listen for where Cloud was in the apartment. He could hear Cloud in the kitchen as he tapped out a sequence of numbers at the microwave, likely to make himself another snack.

Sephiroth felt he had a small window of opportunity, though he wondered if he’d be able to look Cloud in the eye properly again. Still, he seized it while Cloud was distracted. His right hand slipped between his legs and caressed the inside of his thighs as he imagined Cloud’s hands on him. He recalled sweet words murmured to him as his right hand moved; his left arm propped him against the shower wall when his legs began to shake. A small gasp of voice escaped him and he bit onto his forearm while hot water poured down his back and tickled at his sensitive skin. His hand moved faster below as his breathing sped up. His jaw tightened on the piece of his own flesh he held onto to avoid letting Cloud know what he was up to.

 _Cloud…_ his mind groaned. He squeezed his eyes tight until he saw a rainbow of splotched color against the black. He mentally begged for Cloud and wanted to hate himself for being so desperate, but he couldn’t muster the anger anymore. His rage had been spent too long ago and left him in the now, just confused and miserable for nothing.

Sephiroth’s hips jerked forward and slowly rolled back as he rode out the last waves of his release; he let go of his forearm. A colorful bruise and a few dots of blood painted his pale skin from where he’d bitten too deeply. He hissed and smacked the wall, the tiles beneath cracked from his small, violent outburst.

Once he had rinsed himself clean, as well as evidence he left in the shower, Sephiroth turned off the cooled water and stepped onto the bathmat. Water ran off him in streams as he stood, bruised and shaky by his own hand – _ha._ He laughed at himself for his pathetic desire as he started to towel off. The bruise and punctures had already begun to heal, but left his arm a sickly purple and yellow where the bite mark had been. If Cloud asked him, he had no idea what to say, if he should lie or tell the truth.

He wrung out his hair, his head felt too light and sounds became static as he dressed – he was dimly aware that Cloud had helpfully included a pair of briefs from his dresser – and his addled thoughts disagreed on whether to thank him or eradicate him for making light of an earlier mistake.

 

Sephiroth opened the bathroom door to find Cloud behind it, already changed into comfortable clothes for the night. Cloud made a startled – and unfortunate – squawk when Sephiroth startled him suddenly.

“Hey. I… uh. I heard a ‘thump’ and was gonna check on you but the shower turned off so I… um…” Cloud’s face was pink. Sephiroth wondered if Cloud had still managed to hear him, or had simply guessed what he’d done. “But you… seem ok—what happened to your arm?”

Sephiroth lifted his left arm and looked at it as if he didn’t know and shrugged, both arms dropped back at his sides for the moment. “Don’t concern yourself.” He stooped and pulled Cloud close and embraced him.

“Seph, you’re still pretty wet.” Cloud hugged him back anyway and lifted a few damp tendrils of his hair while he could reach.

“I’ve been told I’m pretty when I’m dry as well,” replied Sephiroth.

Cloud held his breath a moment and started to laugh against his shoulder. “Okay, weirdo, you got me.” He pulled back enough to look up at Sephiroth and smiled at him. “You go sit on the couch. I’ve got snacks and I ordered a pizza. But it’s coming to us, ‘cause I’m not going out again tonight, how about you?”

Sephiroth felt, despite himself, that his lips formed a small smile. “I do not have any other plans,” he replied.

“Great. Now let me by, I gotta use the bathroom.”

Sephiroth chuckled and released his hold on Cloud. He did as instructed and sat down on the couch. There were other snacks, much of Cloud’s personal stash – potato chips and nachos, some sort of cream dip as well as a cheesy salsa, and an ice bucket with Cloud’s selection of sodas in it. Sephiroth got up again and went to their fridge to retrieve a couple bottles of water. Everything Cloud had pulled out was incredibly salty. _He eats so much junk food,_ thought Sephiroth, though there was a fondness to it. Cloud probably burned through calories as much as any other SOLDIER, and even after years of being away from Nibelheim, he didn’t see Cloud as too eager to return to the rustic meal offerings of mountain folk.

Just as he set the bottles down, there came a knock at the front door. Cloud scrambled from the bathroom to the door, during which he called out “Hang on, almost there!” as he rushed over. Once there, he paid – and generously tipped, from what Sephiroth heard of their conversation – the delivery girl and then brought both pizzas to the living room and their coffee table.

“Why did you get two?” asked Sephiroth, nearly immediately as Cloud set the boxes down as he hissed “hot, hot, hot” as he crossed the room.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got one with almost everything, and a veggie pizza.” Cloud grinned and opened the top box. “Though you’re welcome to try mine,” he said as he turned the box toward Sephiroth. Inside, Sephiroth saw the pizza was piled with several varieties of meat and a few vegetables.

“Well. You’re certainly getting your proteins,” said Sephiroth, which made Cloud laugh again.

“Hey, I’m a growing boy!”

Sephiroth smirked and reached to slide the other box out from underneath the first. “Continue to eat like that, and the only way you’ll grow is _out,_ Strife.”

Cloud grinned and patted his belly. “So? I’ll be fat. I’ll still be cute.”

Such a statement got Sephiroth to laugh as he opened the second box and inspected the pizza meant for him.

“It’s good to hear you laugh, sometimes,” said Cloud. A gentle smile was on his lips as he spoke, and Sephiroth was made very curious by the expression. Curious and pleased by it.

He felt his dour mood and embarrassment from the shower begin to dissolve with Cloud’s sense of humor and warm presence near him. Cloud turned on the television and started on his first slice and first can of soda; Sephiroth followed suit with a bottle of his own water, and they ate in relatively pleasant quiet.

After he finished his first slice, Cloud spoke up. He looked a little uncertain as he asked, “Sephiroth, you mentioned that you had friends, once. What were they like?”

Sephiroth paused before his next bite and frowned. He reached over to put the half eaten slice back in its box and wiped his hands on a napkin as he tried to avoid the question. “They were… friends,” he said. He felt his heart sink a little, so he took a deep breath and continued before his own thoughts made him silent. “Angeal was a good, kind hearted man. Far too good for ShinRa. Genesis…” Sephiroth licked his lips and pondered his wording. “Genesis was complicated. He saw himself as my rival, that he should have been better than I at anything. I think he simply liked titles. He wanted to be a hero.”

Cloud sipped at his own drink and nodded. “A lot of people in the program did. Zack did.”

Sephiroth shook his head and sat back. “Not like Genesis. He wanted the admiration, he wanted to feel important. ShinRa used me to cast a very large shadow that he fell into by their design. I think Genesis’ desire for my place in ShinRa was what made Angeal impress honor on Zack so fervently. He couldn’t change Genesis, but he could teach Zack.”

Sephiroth paused and looked over to Cloud, who looked back at him with wide, glossy eyes. “They were close to you, then?”

An insecure shrug and turn of his head was most of Sephiroth’s answer. “As close as one could get, I believe. We were all part of a similar project, but… knowing what I do now, I think Hojo wanted me to eradicate them as possible competition.” A wan smile crossed his lips. “But having them around made me happier than anything else had. They could keep up with me, they were skilled. They kept me grounded.” Sephiroth swallowed and stared at the coffee table as he felt his appetite begin to wane.

“Then, they left me behind.”

Sephiroth started when he felt Cloud push in beside him on the couch, his shoulder up against Sephiroth’s biceps. Cloud looked up at him and nudged him with his shoulder. “It hurts to lose someone,” he said. “Did you find out why?”

Cloud’s question woke up an old ache that settled back into his chest. Sephiroth nodded and put his hands between his knees – he was tempted to put an arm around Cloud, but he still felt hesitant to reach out. “Genesis told me, in Nibelheim, about the project. He believed the secret to his salvation was buried in my DNA.”

“Why?”

Sephiroth closed his eyes and dropped his shin to his chest. “He was dying. They both were. Their bodies were degrading. Genesis’ degradation began after I’d injured him. Though I have to wonder now, if a transfusion from me might have kept him alive.”

Cloud picked up the arm he leaned against and dragged it over his shoulders. Sephiroth did not even resist to being repositioned like that and closed his arm around Cloud’s side. “I made Zack face Angeal-“

“You mentioned that before. Did Zack really kill him?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth paused and looked down at Cloud. Cloud looked back up at him, focused, but the sadness was easily read in his eyes. “Not out of spite or any malice on Zack’s part. Angeal drove him to it. I had sent Zack because I had hoped that… as Angeal’s student, he might have had a better chance to talk Angeal down from his suicidal mission. I did not think he was beyond reach.”

Sephiroth felt his voice grow raspy and choked. Cloud’s arms wound around his waist and squeezed tight; Sephiroth turned towards Cloud and completed the embrace. He felt himself start to tremble and fought the urge to break down. He realized he fought a losing battle with his emotions as his breath caught and he almost felt like he was choking.

Cloud spoke from under his arm. “Just let it out, already. You’re gonna hurt yourself more if you don’t let off some pressure.”

Cloud’s request felt like the permission for release he’d always wanted; Sephiroth felt his body start to shake violently as he curled forward and around Cloud. His fingers curled in the soft material of Cloud’s tee until his hands shook with the tight grip. He buried his face against Cloud’s shoulder and quickly began to soak the material as he felt sobs rip violently out of him, accompanied by labored hiccups for air.

Among all this, Sephiroth could hear Cloud murmur to softly him over his hoarse whimpers. Fingers moved from the small of his back where Cloud had massaged at his spine to caress through damp locks of silver. Cloud didn’t say much, but just reminded him that it couldn’t have been _his_ fault for his friends’ abandonment. A few minutes passed while Sephiroth sobbed into Cloud’s shoulder, then he began to cough and wheeze. He pulled back and wiped at his eyes; Cloud wrapped a piece of ice in a napkin and ran it over his heated face. He didn’t even realize how warm he was until he felt the jolt of cool water pressed over his forehead.

Sephiroth took a long drink of his water and gasped for air, then finished the bottle off and dropped it back onto the coffee table. “Thank you, Cloud,” he said once he found his voice again. “You are far too kind to me.”

Cloud’s smile made his heart skip a beat. The cloying sadness that had made a comeback in Sephiroth started to retreat once more at the expression.

“You’re welcome, Sephiroth. Here…” Cloud got up and moved to the end of the couch. He placed a pillow on his lap and patted it invitingly. “If you’re not hungry anymore, you can lay here. It’s still a little early for bed, but I’ll stay with you as long as you need.”

Sephiroth felt a smile tug at one side of his mouth and he nodded. He lay down across the couch and settled his head on the pillow. For Cloud’s benefit, he reached out to pull the whole coffee table closer so he could still work on his own food.

“Ah, thanks,” replied Cloud. He reached down and lightly caressed the side of his neck and over his bare shoulder. The gentle touches began at the top of his head, ghosted across the nape of his neck and over his shoulder in long, slow strokes. It wasn’t long before his eyelids felt heavy and he dozed off.

 

Sephiroth woke about almost two hours later to an empty couch. Cloud was in the kitchen, and he moved as quietly as possible. Sephiroth sat up and rubbed at his eyes with his fingers.

“I’ve developed a habit of falling asleep on you,” he groaned.

Cloud chuckled from the other side of the apartment and turned toward him. “Possibly, but I’d rather have you sleeping on me.” Cloud paused as he packed up the remains of the snacks and shook his head. “That sounded wrong,” he chuckled.

“Rather sleeping on you than burning down cities?” ventured Sephiroth as he got up and stretched. He felt his back pop and muscles try to fight the movement as he twisted from left to right to work out the knots.

Cloud coughed loudly; Sephiroth turned towards him with a raised brow. “Well, yeah…” he admitted, his back to Sephiroth. “I was trying to imply that without outright saying it.” He came out of the kitchenette and approached the back of the couch, his hands laid on it. “How do you feel?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t feel as… numb as I usually do. But neither as… raw, as I felt earlier.” Sephiroth rubbed idly at his own stomach as he thought. “Were you going to bed?” he asked in an effort to divert attention from himself.

“Maybe. You definitely need rest though. You’re starting your busboy training tomorrow.” Cloud smirked up at him. “Tifa’s not going to go easy on you. If anything, she’ll expect you to be a model employee.”

“I think I can do that. I was a model SOLDIER, after all.” Sephiroth moved to kneel on the couch so he was level with Cloud, beside him.

Cloud laughed softly and nudged his arm against Sephiroth’s. “Yeah, but Tifa is _Tifa._ She doesn’t have regulations. She just has her _way_.”

Sephiroth smiled and nodded. He turned away for a moment to gather his thoughts. When he turned back, Cloud was much closer and looked him in the eye. Sephiroth felt whatever he was going to say slip off in the presence of Cloud right before him. His own eyes widened while Cloud’s bore straight into his. It was the kind of intensity Cloud usually reserved for battle; Sephiroth had been on the receiving end enough times to know. “Cloud?” He felt himself swallow in the wake of such immediate scrutiny.

Instead of an answer, Cloud closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, released it, then opened his eyes once more. Gone was the fierceness of the previous stare-down; Sephiroth could just see his brows furrow and his mouth twitch with uncertainty. The greenish tinge that circled Cloud’s pupils flared a little brighter; his pupils dilated slightly, then fixed on him again – Sephiroth wanted to know what had him so worked up that it made the Mako react like that. He tried to lean closer, but Cloud just took another deep breath and slumped, his head on his folded forearms.

“Cloud, what just happened?” asked Sephiroth. He reached out to touch the top of Cloud’s head, but Cloud stood again and drew his breath in deep.

“Sorry.” Cloud paused and rubbed a hand over his face. “Since you’ve come back, there’s… well, it’s kind of hard to believe you’re still the same man I… _we_ chased all over the Planet.”

“Is that why you looked at me like you were ready to fight?”

Cloud laughed and bobbed his head downward. Sephiroth inched a little closer over the back of the couch. “Sorta. I keep trying to look at you… differently. Either as an enemy or like the hero I used to worship. I keep expecting you to… I don’t know. Evaporate? Hurt yourself again?” His eyes flicked over to the bruise on Sephiroth’s arm, still purple from how he’d bitten himself in spite of his desire to not alarm Cloud. “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime,” he added.

Sephiroth nodded and slowly put his hand on Cloud’s arm. He felt unusually anxious to do so, but he never balked from anything, even Cloud Strife. “I will. Eventually. Until then, just look at me like a man?” He tilted his head a little to get a little closer, so Cloud would look him in the eyes. His personal embarrassment seemed less important than how Cloud might think of him. “I am trying, Cloud, to just be one.”

Cloud smiled a little bit and nodded. “Yeah, I know.” He smiled and moved closer. Sephiroth felt a light press of Cloud’s lips to his cheek before Cloud pulled back again and started for his bedroom. He was somewhat aware of Cloud telling him “goodnight,” and the door being shut.

Sephiroth just focused on the part of his cheek that tingled from the slight contact. He touched his cheek very gingerly and found it to be very warm. Eventually, he mumbled a belated reply to Cloud’s “goodnight” and got up from the couch when his thigh muscles started to burn from being in one position for so long. After that, he turned off the lights and made sure everything was secure before he headed to bed.

He paused in front of his own bedroom door and looked toward Cloud’s. He felt his heart flutter and laid his hand on his chest. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he could not help but feel so much happier. A familiar happiness like what he’d had with Genesis and Angeal, but still so different.

 _Even if this is all…_ he thought, _the companionship, being able to talk to someone…_ _I will cherish it._


	12. Red Sky At Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud wakes up to some missed phone calls after his Quiet Night. Cid is Cid.

Cloud woke as his phone vibrated itself right off of his nightstand and clattered to the floor, unaffected by the fall as it continued to buzz. Cloud groaned and looked at the USB cable and where it dangled. He silently blamed it for not holding onto the phone before it took the plunge.

Half-slid out from under his sheets, Cloud reached under the bed for the phone before it buzzed itself too far under and he would have had to get out of bed to retrieve it. After he typed in the passcode, he stared, bleary-eyed, at the “Missed Call” notification. There were four voicemails that awaited him.

Cloud groaned as he realized three of them were from Cid’s phone. The fourth was from Midgar General, which was a hospital at the northern remains of Old Midgar. Cloud sat up and turned on the speaker as he began to listen to the voicemail messages left for him. As they played, he got up to get dressed.

 _“Cloud, this is Vincent. We are coming in from Ajit on the Shera. Cid was attacked by an unknown assailant in the woods. He is alive, but unconscious. His crew has insisted upon medical attention, so they are taking him to Midgar General. Please meet us there as soon as you get this message.”_ Cloud had stopped when he heard Vincent’s voice instead of Cid’s usual string of obscenities to listen, and then shook his head and resumed dressing as he heard the next.

 _“Cloud, you ain’t gotta come after me like I’m some kinda old man!”_ Cid barked. There were sounds of a struggle and another voice. _“Mr. Highwind, please, you shouldn’t be on your feet. How did you even get out of bed?!”_ Cloud laughed and guessed it was a nurse who tried to coax Cid back into his room. _“And the doctor told you, no smoking on hospital grounds!”_

 _“I ain’t smoking on… shit, this is—BEEP!”_ The phone message ended there, cut off in what Cloud presumed was a struggle with the nurse.

The next was timestamped for two hours later, with Cid’s voice, much calmer than before, but no less furious. _“Cloud, they called the WRO on me. Shera’s grounded, an’ I’m gonna fuckin’ kill Reeve! I ain’t that badly hurt – just a little lightning an’ these doctors got their panties in a knot! He’s got me under some kinda legal bullshit so’s I don’t go killin’ myself or some fuckin’ thing. Says I need a guardian, so I booted his fuckin’ puppet. Vincent won’t come in the building. Can ya come pick me up? You can leave your big white cat at home.”_

Cloud rubbed a hand over his face. If Reeve had felt the need to ground Cid, it was more complicated than a concern for Cid getting himself hurt, but he decided he would deal with one hurdle at a time. He picked up the phone just as it got to the last message and he carried it in with him to the bathroom. The last message was from that morning.

 _“Mr. Strife, this is Doctor Ajana with Midgar General,”_ began a feminine voice, _“I’m calling in regards to Mr. Cid Highwind. He was admitted to our hospital late last night with materia burns to the chest and lightning damage to his nervous system. Fortunately, we were able to administer an Elixir so that he can have a quick recovery.”_ There was a pause, and when Dr. Ajana picked up again, she sounded frustrated. ” _Unfortunately, his actions as a belligerent patient forced us to have his airship grounded until a responsible party can come for him. Please see me in my office when you arrive to transport Mr. Highwind home. Thank you, and have a nice day.”_ The call ended there, and Cloud closed his voicemail so that he could get started on that “nice day.”

After he left the bathroom, he headed into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal when he found a note left for him, taped to his favorite box of “easy breakfast.”

_Cloud, I have made you something to eat. Unfortunately, you were deep asleep when I attempted to wake you, so I apologize that I had to leave it in the fridge. I also made coffee. See you tonight. –S._

Cloud felt a smile grow on his face as he tugged off the neatly-written note and went to the fridge. Inside, he found a plate with French toast and sausage links left on a plastic-wrapped plate beside a bowl of fresh fruit. There was a sticky note with a recommended cooking time on it, as well as a reminder where he had left the syrup.

“Oh man, I wish I’d been awake…” muttered Cloud; he felt a little sorry he hadn’t been up when the food was fresh out of the pan. He moved the plate to the microwave and started it up as he prepared a cup of coffee for himself. Sephiroth going through all the trouble to make him breakfast and then reserve a plate for him was almost too kind. If Denzel had gone through the trouble, he would have suspected some ulterior motive, like a desire for some “cool, new” toy. But this was _Sephiroth._ He convinced himself that it was just a courtesy-driven move, but as he got out the plate and began to eat at the kitchen counter, he realized Sephiroth might actually want _something._

 _“He likes you,”_ Tifa had said once. Cloud took a long drink of his coffee and shook his head. _“He shares. With you. He came home. With. You. He kept you from wandering off in the forest. He used you as a pillow.”_

“He cried…” muttered Cloud. He stared down at his half-eaten breakfast and recalled how Sephiroth held onto him and sobbed into his shoulder. And now he’d made him a delicious breakfast instead when he could have left Cloud to cold cereal. The toast had just the right amount of cinnamon and the sausage links were his preferred flavor. The coffee didn’t taste stale even though Sephiroth had obviously made it much earlier that morning.

“I’m being stupid,” Cloud said to himself. He checked his phone again and rolled his eyes. No new messages, but he figured Cid had probably threatened the hospital staff with a mop by then. “I’ve gotta mosey,” he grumbled. He wolfed down the rest of his breakfast and headed out.

He had an ornery pilot to rescue, after all.

 

The ride to the hospital was calm. Most people had already left the streets open since they were at their own jobs, which Cloud was glad that he didn’t have. Delivering packages and the occasional monster bounty were plenty to keep him occupied. The ride also helped clear his mind – the last thing he needed was to wrangle an unhappy Cid while his own head was lost in the search for meaning with every little action by Sephiroth.

Cloud parked in the hospital’s garage and looked out toward the city’s outskirts, where, just over the bits of reconstruction, he could see the Shera loom in the distance. He sighed and shook his head. A mental note to call Reeve or Cait Sith was added to the “To Do” list in his mind.

Once inside, Cloud signed into the desk near the door and was fitted with a Visitor badge with Cid’s name and room number printed onto it. He got instructions for the floor Cid had been moved to while he stayed in recovery and headed for the elevators.

Just as the elevator doors closed, a black-suited arm popped into the shutting doors and made them spring open again. Attached to that arm was a familiar face, familiar _suit,_ and Cloud wished the elevator’s safety feature had malfunctioned for just a moment.

“Hey, goin’ up, yo?” asked the redheaded man as he slipped into the elevator with a grin.

Cloud leaned back against the elevator wall and just barely reined in the impulse to shove Reno back _out_ through the doors before they closed again. Instead, he looked to the ceiling and started to count the little squares in the plastic grate that covered the elevator light.

“What? You ain’t gotta be…” Reno paused, and Cloud looked at his maniacal grin and regretted it when Reno concluded, “ _Rude._ ” He laughed at his own joke and sipped at the energy drink in his hand.

“Careful with that joke, Reno. I hear it’s an endangered species,” grumbled Cloud. “What do you want?”

“Hear Highwind’s had a little trouble. Trouble in Ajit. Don’t know what he was doin’ there, but I bet you do,” said Reno. He took advantage of the small, confined space and the elevator’s slow ascent. He leaned against the wall beside Cloud and stared at him. “So, what was it? Disturbance in the force?”

Cloud frowned like Reno radiated some sort of foul odor. The shit-eating grin on Reno’s face helped make that even easier to imagine. “I don’t know. Cid’s a big boy. He can go where he pleases.”

“Yeah, but, it’s not often are you guys headed back to _that_ location without a damned good reason.” Reno took a swig of his Chocobo Feather drink and made a satisfied smack of his lips. “We tried to scan it, you know. Outta respect, we’d never _dredge_ the waters there. But we did a… uh…” Reno snapped his fingers and shrugged. The way he shifted on his feet, Cloud suspected that was _not_ his first energy drink of the day. “Sonar imaging, tried to get like a contour of the underwater area, but a lot of it… lots of it are un-chartable. Like, the software fucks it all up. Makes you wonder what goes on in the deeper parts.”

Cloud gripped the rail that circled the elevator and felt the metal start to bend in his hand. “Reno, what do you want? I have a lot on my plate.”

Reno turned and slapped the Emergency Stop button on the elevator panel and put his hands on either side of Cloud’s head. Cloud looked back at him and sighed. “Look, we know you went up there couple months back. Now Tifa’s kicked ya out of her place. So, I’m askin’… did you…” Reno looked up at the camera in the corner of the elevator. Cloud followed his gaze and realized the light to it was off. His lip curled up in a sneer at Reno’s shit-eating grin.

“You didn’t find someone… yanno… who was s’posed to be dead? Or, you know… maybe _is_ and… you… brought her back anyway?”

Cloud’s eyes doubled in size but his brows came down at the same time. He grabbed Reno’s shirt collar and pinned him up against the opposite wall of the elevator.

“Are you suggesting I took Aerith’s body out of Ajit like some sort of crazy necrophile?!” he yelled. He shook Reno, who held onto his wrists for dear life. Until, of course, he swung a leg up and over Cloud’s head and shifted his weight. They toppled to the floor together in a tangle of limbs. Both of Reno’s gangly legs were around Cloud’s neck and had him in a lock while Reno pulled on Cloud’s arm to keep him from moving.

“You need to rein it in, Strife! I was thinkin’ she maybe came back like somebody else we know. Would explain why you applied for a two-room place all over the city, but ain’t put a second name on any forms!”

Cloud grunted with the restraint and took a few deep breaths. He flexed his arm and pulled Reno into an upright, sitting position, despite how Reno fought being pulled up at all. As soon as his arm was up enough, Cloud flipped them both over fast enough to knock Reno’s head against the floor. The shock made Reno’s legs loosen, so Cloud got himself free and sat on the small of Reno’s back.

“Aerith is gone, Reno.” Cloud put his feet on both of Reno’s elbows to keep him pinned to the floor. Reno groaned as a bruise blossomed and swelled on his forehead. “She’s part of the Planet, now and forever. She would never abuse her abilities to bring herself back. I should tell Tseng what you said and let him deal with you,” threatened Cloud.

“Okay, fine, whatever! I’m sorry! Just get off me!” Reno grunted. “You’ve got a bony ass, yo!”

To spite him, Cloud twisted before he got up, just so he could grind his “bony ass” into Reno’s spine. As he got up, the elevator started to move again.

Reno stood as well and began to dust himself off. “You’re a little extra violent this morning. You should try jerkin’ it sometime, maybe relieve a little pressure. If Tifa ain’t your squeeze anymore, that is.”

“Reno, you’re disgusting.”

Reno just shrugged and grinned. “Yeah, I know. It’s all part-a the charm.” He leaned into Cloud’s space again and elbowed him. Cloud pushed him off with an annoyed hiss. “Hey, if you need to get laid, I know a few people. You know, whatever you’re into. Just call me.” Reno saluted Cloud as he bounded, backwards, off the elevator a floor before Cloud needed to. “See ya, blondie!”

Cloud took a few deep breaths and let out a frustrated growl, his hands up like he wanted to strangle Reno with his mind as the redhead skipped off like a sugar-addicted preschooler. _Not today. You can beat him up later…_ he said to himself as he got out on the next floor.

He didn’t need to ask at the nurse’s station where Cid’s room was. Cloud could hear Cid down the hall as he shouted at another nurse. Watching the nurse as he backpedaled out of Cid’s room was almost comical.

“Sir! I’m sorry, we’re under WRO orders to keep you here until—“ The nurse looked up as Cloud approached and then ducked behind Cloud. “Thank Shiva you’re here!” he said as he used Cloud as a shield. A plastic washtub flew out of the room into the hall and Cloud caught it easily before he headed in.

Cid stood in the middle of his room, half-draped in a hospital gown. The bed was shoved to one side and the IV and empty Elixir drip bag overturned beside it. Cloud literally wiped the smile off of his face with one hand while he held up the plastic basin in the other. He really didn’t want to laugh since Cid looked ready to hurl his water jug at the nurse behind Cloud.

“They stole my fuckin’ pants, Cloud!” Cid snarled. His shoulders were bunched as he cocked his arm back, ready to throw the plastic pitcher.

“Hey, hey, hey, wait a minute!” Cloud jumped in front of Cid and grabbed the pitcher. “Since when has a lack of pants stopped _you_ from doing anything?” he asked.

Cid huffed and lowered his arm instead of trying to fight Cloud for it. “It ain’t the pants. It’s that they’ve got m’smokes in’em. I’d be fuckin’ outta here already if these damned thieves weren’t keepin’ me from my shit!”

Cloud raised both brows and tilted his head into Cid’s line of sight when Cid tried to look around him for the terrified nurse. The man squawked and scuttled out into the hallway, which gave them some privacy.

Cid rolled out his shoulders and stood up straight when they were alone. Cloud turned and shut the door behind him, then righted a chair and straddled it, his eyes on Cid. “So, what’s really going on?”

“They wanted me to sign forms an’ shit. WRO related stuff. Nothin’ against Reeve, but I hear tell that Rufus ShinRa’s tryin’ to rehab his image by joinin’ forces with’em. Some WRO agent wanted me to give’em a statement,” said Cid, much calmer now that Cloud was around. “Ain’t sayin’ nothin’ if Rufus ShinRa’s involved.”

Cloud raised an eyebrow at what Cid said, but knew well enough that Cid was cautious for a reason. “So, where _are_ your clothes?”

Cid grinned and hopped up onto the bed. “Hospital laundry. I passed out in some mud by the lake. Must’ve been out fer a while, because it was caked all over my jeans an’ I was shiverin’ like a baby Chocobo in a thunderstorm.” Cid folded his hands under his head and leaned back on the bed. “Vincent found me unconscious when he came outta the water. Got a potion in me long enough so’s I could tell him what I’d been hit with. Then I passed the fuck out again an’ woke up in this shitty nightgown. It ain’t even my color.”

Cloud snorted and rubbed at the back of his head. “You don’t know who hit you, do you? Anything… distinct?” asked Cloud. He combed his fingers down like he’d had longer hair. The last thing they needed was for a clone to show up and ruin things. Cloud had just begun to see real change with Sephiroth.

“I’ll save it fer when we’re outta this place. You’ve gotta get to Dr. Ajana’s office an’ sign the release forms fer Reeve, who’s gonna be pickin’ boot outta his rectum fer a month fer groundin’ me.”

Cloud stood and crossed over to the bed and looked down at him. “When you get your clothes, check them. Reno was in the elevator, and where he is…”

Cid groaned. “Then Rude ain’t far.” Cid sat up again and looked at Cloud for a moment before he asked. “You been okay?”

Cloud sighed and took a step back. “Not now. When we’re on your ship,” he said. He knew that if the Turks haunted the hospital, he wasn’t going to feel safe about discussing Sephiroth until they were in a secure location. Vincent probably kept them from getting onto the _Shera,_ at least.

“I’ll be back. Pester them for your clothing again. Just… try to not hit any more nurses. These people go through a lot of medical school. You could be good and not brain one with a bedpan, right?” asked Cloud.

Cid grunted and scratched at his head. He tried to adjust his goggles, which had also been taken off in an effort to make him comfortable. “Alright, fine, _mom._ You get me outta here before fast, then.”

 

Cloud had found the head of the hospital to be a rather gracious woman, and she had been pleasantly kind about Cid, despite all the ways he had messed with the staff. Cloud had put his money on her simply being a bigger person; he didn’t blame her for having contacted Reeve, if only to rein in Cid’s behavior.

Not that Cloud could entirely blame him when he realized that the Turks had the place under surveillance. The subject of privacy on their part was closed when they boarded Cid’s airship, however.

“Goddamnit, I think they shrunk my jeans. My balls feel like they’re bein’ squashed up into my ass…” grumbled Cid as they entered the cargo bay. Cid wriggled and shifted and tugged on his jeans as he tried to adjust himself. “At least they ain’t crawling with Turk-herpes.”

Cloud rubbed a hand on his forehead and took a steadying breath. “Cid. Seriously.”

Cid looked up and smirked at Cloud. “Awright, awright. Enough lollygaggin’, I suppose.” Cid hopped up onto a crate and stretched his arms over his head. “I’d rather have this conversation at 12,000 feet, but I know Vince would keep this place on lockdown,” he said. Both he and Cloud nearly jumped out of their skin when the aforementioned man melted out from a shaded corner.

“My name is Vinc _ent,_ ” he said with a low rumble. Cid clutched at his chest and huffed.

“Don’t scare me like that, sweetheart. They just glued me back together!” Cid yelped.

“…Sweetheart?” echoed Vincent.

Cloud clapped his hands together. “Hey! We’ve got a bigger issue here.” He gestured toward Cid for him to continue. “You were attacked in Ajit.”

Cid nodded and pulled his legs up under himself as he shifted around atop his crate. “Yeah. Vinc _ent_ had just gone into the waters an’ left me on the shore,” he began. Cloud noticed Vincent’s burning red eyes shift in Cid’s direction in annoyance, then slowly drift back in Cloud’s direction as he listened without interruption. “So I’m waitin’ and I’m bored as hell when this dick in a red coat drops outta fuckin’ nowhere an’d starts reciting some fuckin’ old-ass poetry.”

Cloud opened his mouth, closed it again, then opened once more. “Poetry,” he responded.

“Yeah, some story, poem… thing. They made it into a play when I was at the academy. Boring as fuck. Fell asleep durin-“

“Cid, _focus,_ ” snapped Cloud after a moment. “What did he look like? You said he had a red coat. Anything else?”

Cid frowned and nodded. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He drew a long breath and then huffed out the smoke. “Yeah. Big ass black wing.” He paused and watched Cloud, then gestured with his cigarette. “Left side, unlike your giant housecat, there.” Cid took another draw from his cigarette and held it a moment, his eyes closed. “I says ‘hey, what the fuck?’ as he’s conjurin’ this water ball like some goddamned fortune teller—“ Cid coughed and made a circular motion with his hand in a pantomime of what he’d witnessed. “So he tazed me. With a goddamned Bolt spell. I come to… sometime later, with Vincent leanin’ over me in the mud like some old sailor’s tale ‘bout mermaids.”

Cloud heard Vincent growl, low and nearly inaudible above the sounds of the _Shera’s_ machinery.

“I had been gone for an hour. Cid was unconscious, but his injuries were not as bad as the hospital claimed,” reported Vincent. “I believe it is simply the nature of where he was found that caused them to restrain him. I did not enter the facility, but his first mate had returned to report to the rest of the crew that they had been grounded.”

Cloud gave Vincent a nod of thanks and sat on a smaller crate, his hands folded together like a prayer as he processed this information. Cid began to speak again, so Cloud looked to him for more.

“I think I remember the guy’s name, if it helps.”

“You do?” asked Cloud.

“Yeah. Kinda hit me as I fell. Genesis.”

Cloud’s eyes widened and he stood up. “Are you sure, Cid? Like, one-hundred-percent, no-way-you’re-mistaken?”

Cid snubbed the butt of his cigarette against the top of the crate he sat on and grunted an affirmative. “Course I am. I was a little shit of a teenager when I joined, but I sure as fuck remember him even after blastin’ my ass with a Bolt spell. Mostly remember bein’ pissed at him an’ the others because SOLDIER was already startin’ to siphon resources away from the science programs that weren’t about them, specifically.” Cid hopped off of his crate and stood in front of Cloud. “Thought I heard he’d died.”

“He was – is – supposed to be dead,” murmured Cloud. He rubbed at his neck in his nervousness. “Sephiroth told me he was. They – Sephiroth and these other SOLDIERs, Genesis and Angeal, had been close, apparently.”

Vincent approached them silently, steps ghosted over the metal floor. “Then, he should be alerted that one of his ‘old friends’ has come back from the dead.”

Cloud shook his head and reached up to grip at his hair for a moment before they dropped to his sides. “No, I can’t. Not right now.” He thought back to the night just before – Sephiroth’s tears, the sensation of them as they soaked into his shirt. That was progress. Sephiroth needed to move forward, not be dragged backwards. “We need to investigate. Sephiroth had clones. It’s possible that, if Genesis was in SOLDIER, he had clones too.” Cloud shuddered and shook his head again. “The last thing we need is another …Reunion.”

Cid and Vincent looked at him expectantly. Cloud realized he was still their leader in some ways, and had to decide on their course of action. He took a few steps back with his hands up. “Look, I think we need to get our facts straight. Before we go jumping to conclusions, see what you can find. If there is someone from Sephiroth’s past hanging around, I want to know what they’re going to want from him. Especially if they were close.” Cloud felt a knot constrict his throat and he swallowed it down before he continued. “Sephiroth… is just starting his job, he’s been back for like, two months, and aside from yesterday, he’s had no problems.”

Vincent pushed himself closer to Cloud and looked down at him. “What happened yesterday?”

Cloud shook his head and dropped it down to avoid Vincent’s scrutiny. “We were at the mall. Someone started yelling at us about SOLDIER and ShinRa. He got upset.” Cloud looked up at Vincent, who had not responded, but he didn’t give him the opportunity. “Not angry. He was really quiet.” Cloud took a deep breath. “I think he’s remembering what it’s like to feel that kind of hurt.”

“So… what?” Cid moved around the wall of Vincent to stand beside Cloud and put a hand on his shoulder. “You thinkin’ he’s just up and changed? That he ain’t gonna try to burn the world again?”

“Cid, I don’t know,” replied Cloud. He really wanted to believe, but he began to have his doubts. Genesis and Sephiroth had been close, once, and Genesis appeared where Sephiroth had _re_ appeared this time. He found it hard to believe it was just a coincidence. If Genesis had been alive the whole time, where had he been?

“What happened after that?” asked Vincent, his voice a much more soothing tone than Cid’s. “Were you there for him?”

Cloud pulled his shoulders back and looked Vincent in the eye. “Of course I was. We went back to the apartment and talked. It was… nice.” Cloud cleared his throat and puffed up his chest a little bit, ready to defend his actions further. The details of the evening were between him and Sephiroth. Doubts aside, he did not regret offering Sephiroth some kind of comfort.

Instead, Vincent closed his eyes and turned away, toward the shadow he had appeared from. “I think we should head to Nibelheim, Cid and I. It still remains the core of Hojo’s machinations. The mansion, in specific, may have some hidden truths buried in the lies.” Vincent turned slightly toward Cid. “And Reeve may have unearthed something in regards to the Deepground.”

Cid folded his arms over his chest and nearly turned red in indignation. “Fine! We’ll call Tuesti! I owe him a boot in the ass anyway.” He started to walk after Vincent – Cloud guessed before he could vanish again.

Cloud’s shoulders drooped as he realized neither of them were going to question his motives regarding Sephiroth. It was a relief, to not be called crazy for a change. “Thanks, you guys. Keep me posted on what you find. I’ll keep an eye out for men in red.”

Cid pivoted on both feet and pointed at Cloud. “Red coat, big black wing, red hair, too. Fer what it’s worth, I hope he ain’t lookin’ to cause trouble either. Last thing we need is _two_ hyper strong assholes runnin’ all over the Planet.”

Cloud sighed and bowed his head. “Me too, for what it’s worth,” he echoed. “Call me if you find anything,” he said as he went over to the cargo door panel. Cid joined him instead of going after Vincent, who had already “disappeared” while they were occupied.

Cid covered Cloud’s hand before he opened the cargo bay doors. “Hey, you were talkin’ about how Sephiroth was doin’, but what about you? How’s life with your former enemy?”

“You picked a helluva time to ask, Cid,” Cloud snorted and shook his head.

“I didn’t wanna ask with Vince…ent… here. I think he still sees him as Lucrecia’s son. ‘Specially if you’re gonna tell’im about Sephiroth havin’ feelings.” Cid moved his hand to Cloud’s shoulder and Cloud saw how Cid’s brow furrowed and his eyes were searching for something – fear, sadness, anything he could use to talk further. “An’ I don’t wanna hear that you’ll tell me later, kid.”

Cloud took a deep breath and looked up at Cid. “It’s really complicated. He’s not… Not what I expected. It’s not like I’ve taken home the Sephiroth we were fighting against and been trying to rehabilitate him. It’s like I’ve got some other guy who just… _looks_ and sounds like that man.” Cloud licked his lips and rolled them between his teeth; he looked over Cid’s shoulder instead of into his eyes. “I know he’s not my hero anymore. I don’t know what he is.”

“Good.” Cid’s one word reply got Cloud to look at him again, and Cid smiled for it. “You try ta define him right away an’ you’re gonna end up burnin’ your own brains outta yer skull.” He raised a hand and ruffled Cloud’s hair, which made Cloud swat at him like an annoyed child. “I still don’t like that you’ve taken him in, but… I ain’t surprised, either. ‘Spite of all the shit you’ve been through, you’re a kind man, Cloud. Hopefully not too kind.”

“I hope so, too,” murmured Cloud. “I should probably go check on him. Tifa’s probably put him through the wringer by now.” He hit the cargo bay “door open” button and looked up as the large door started to descend again.

Cid let out a loud guffaw and slapped Cloud’s back. “Pro’lly has! Keep in touch, dumbass!”

 

Cloud got to his motorcycle and straddled it. He stared down at his phone and the list of names in his contact list. _Reeve, Sephiroth, Vincent…_ He selected Reeve’s name and pushed his earpiece in so he could drive and talk.

 _“Tuesti,”_ said Reeve after two rings.

“It’s Cloud.”

_“Cloud, good to hear from you. My apologies for grounding Cid. You know I don’t like to throw my weight around but he was in –“_

“I know where he was, Reeve,” interrupted Cloud as he turned off the hospital’s main road. “And you know why he was there, don’t you?”

_“After a little coaxing, Vincent told me. Is he really back?”_

“Yes.”

_“And he’s living with you?”_

“Yes, Reeve, he is.”

_“What’s that like? Is it weird?”_

Cloud snorted as he pulled onto an on-ramp to get him back into the main roadway system. “Weird’s an understatement, Reeve. If it was anybody _but_ him, it would seem downright normal. Maybe even…” Cloud stopped himself before his train of thought carried over into ‘domestic.’ Just because Sephiroth had made him breakfast, it didn’t mean anything. He told himself it was a courtesy that Sephiroth had thanked him for the comfort Cloud had provided the night before.

_“Maybe…?”_

Cloud realized he had trailed off and switched topics. “Reeve, do you know anything about a man named Genesis? Part of the SOLDIER program, red coat, red hair. High ranking.”

Reeve paused on his end. The silence made Cloud wonder if they’d been cut off, but Reeve began to talk again. _“It was something we were to never speak of again, anyone on one of the boards. Genesis Rhapsodos had been deemed K.I.A. by ShinRa after a defection. The official story was that he’d simply died in battle, but… there was a lot more that happened. He raised an army against ShinRa. I lost a few friends when his clones assaulted ShinRa HQ.”_

“Damn…” Cloud hated that his hunch was right. Genesis had clones. It was entirely possible that this Genesis was another clone, a Kadaj-like host for the real deal, even. Sephiroth mourned a man who seemed just as determined as he had been to avoid death.

_“Cloud? You all right?”_

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry.” Cloud cleared his throat and pulled up to a stop light. “I was just thinking… I asked Cid and Vincent to look into him. I think they’re going to go to Nibelheim to start searching.”

_“They probably won’t find much. The old manor was Sephiroth’s home, but Genesis – and Angeal Heweley – came from a town called Banora. It was literally wiped off the map many years ago.”_

“ShinRa’s doing?” asked Cloud, though he knew he did not need to. He started forward when the light changed, having decided to go to 7th Heaven. The balance between telling Sephiroth who Cid had run into and keeping it from him until they knew more swung wildly back and forth in his mind’s eye. Either way could destroy the delicate framework of a life Sephiroth had begun to build for himself. Cloud was loathe to knock it down on him.

 _“Yes. Tseng… as much as you don’t like the Turks… he might know more. He was involved a lot back then, during the SOLDIER insurgence.”_ Reeve paused and cleared his throat. _“So was Zack Fair.”_

Cloud nearly came to a stop in the middle of the street. “Zack? Reeve… how do you know all of this anyway? Weren’t you a civil engineer?”

Reeve just chuckled on his end. _“You’ve never worked in an office building. The gossip and rumors spread like wildfire by word of mouth. Not to mention, I **was** around for these events, you know. I might not have been a rebel until I met you guys, but I never just stuck my head in the sand. Dropping the plate… that had just been the final straw for me.”_

“Good to know.”

Reeve was quiet again on his end, but Cloud could hear him move in the background. _“I know about the incident at the mall, too,_ ” he added. _“The woman was reported for disorderly conduct in a public space, so… be careful where you go with him.”_

“Thanks for the tip, but I’ve already had to deal with Reno this morning. They’re probably already onto us. Reno’s fishing methods are getting sloppy.”

_“What do you expect? The Turks are loyal to Rufus, but they’re under no obligation to be so ruthless anymore. Before Meteorfall, they might have put a canvas bag over your head and waterboarded you until you gave in, but now…”_

“They’ve gone to Observe and Report tactics, haven’t they? Do you know Rufus’ angle?”

Reeve chuckled and Cloud heard the phone switch to speaker, with Reeve’s voice echoed in his office. _“Not entirely, but he plays everything close to the vest. I just know he hasn’t tried to usurp the WRO, so that’s… something?”_

Cloud snorted and pulled up to another traffic light. He watched a group of young children, escorted by who looked to be some sort of missionary, scamper across the road before him. “It’s better than nothing. I’m going to 7th Heaven. When you’re not so busy trying to rebuild the world, you should stop by some time. Tifa has a new busboy.”

Reeve’s startled laugh danced in his ear. _“I will. See you later, Cloud.”_

“Later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for your kudos and kind comments! This one was a little heavier, but I hope you still enjoyed it. <3


	13. Breakfast at Tifa's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Cloud checks on an ornery Cid, Tifa starts to break in her new busboy. Then an interruption.

That morning had found Tifa awake early enough to get Denzel out of bed and ready for school; the boy had just enough time to eat something before Tifa ushered him out the front door with instructions to not be late when he came home. He might not be an “employee” at 7th Heaven now that she had Sephiroth to boss around, but she was going to make damn sure Denzel got home for dinner and homework.

“Bye, Ti! Love you!” said Denzel as he kissed her cheek and darted from the front of the shop to a van that waited outside for him. One of the locals gave the neighborhood kids a ride since it was impossible to get a bus through the crowded streets of Edge.

As Denzel was toted off for school, Tifa spotted a familiar crown of silver as Sephiroth weaved through the others who were on their respective ways out to other jobs, or who swept off their front steps to greet morning customers. There was something… different to the way he walked, the way he moved. Tifa stood on her own front step and watched him; He was in his usual all-black palette: tee, jeans, sunglasses. A button down over the tee with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. That was not so unusual, but he still _seemed_ different. He had his hair tied up at the back of his head, and it whipped and swished behind him as he nearly leaped out of the way of one of the neighbors as she dragged out her garbage cans. She had almost fallen backwards onto the sidewalk when he managed to catch her on one arm and help her stand.

“Here, allow me,” Tifa could hear him say. She watched him hand over the commuter cup in his hand to the older woman and lifted her garbage cans easily and put them by the side of the road. Tifa’s eyes widened as she watched him retrieve his cup from the woman and he smiled politely to her when she patted his arm and thanked him warmly for his help.

Tifa still stood in the doorway when Sephiroth approached her and lifted his sunglasses to perch them atop his head. “Good morning,” he said as he handed over the commuter cup to Tifa. “I brought you coffee.” When she still hadn’t taken it from him, Tifa gaped in silence as he carefully lifted her hand and closed it around the cup, then held it in place as he made sure she grabbed it with both. “I think you might need it,” he added as he slipped past her into the empty bar.

Tifa opened her mouth and murmured, “good morning” as she turned around, commuter cup grasped tight in both hands. Sephiroth had already disappeared to the back, where he knew to hang his over-shirt at the back door. As she stared off to where Sephiroth had gone, Tifa slowly lifted the cup to her lips and drank. It finally dawned on her that she had been _given_ the cup by Sephiroth. Not only that, but he’d brought it _for her, specifically,_ and he’d even gotten the cream and sugar right. She pulled the cup away from her mouth and stared down at it.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

“Tifa?” Sephiroth stood by the double doors of the kitchen and looked at her with concern. He strode back to her side and gently pulled her away from the front door and shut it so they could talk. “You seem… surprised. Is the coffee correct?”

“W-hat? Oh… yeah, no… I mean, yes, it’s fine. Great, actually.” Tifa looked up at Sephiroth, down at the cup, up at Sephiroth again, then away from both and patted the cup nervously. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m feeling perfectly well, thank you.” Sephiroth had a faint smile on his face and bowed his head to her. “Are you?”

Tifa snorted and took another drink of her coffee, then realized what she’d done and swallowed hard enough to make herself cough. “Yeah. I’m good.” She felt a headache approach and decided against asking… for the moment. “Let’s get you through the rundown. ‘Busboy’ is, well, kind of a simplified term.” She crossed by Sephiroth and headed toward the back. The weird mood he was in might have caught her off guard, but she still had work for him to do.

 

A couple hours flew by as Tifa walked Sephiroth through the entire breakdown of duties at 7th Heaven. She showed him the freezer, where the temperature gauge was and what level it should remain at. She ran him through taking care of the dishes and glassware, how to keep it sanitary. 7th Heaven wasn’t quite a proper restaurant, but they did lunches from 10 a.m. up until 6 p.m., when the bar crowd started to filter in.

One thing she impressed upon him was the matter of the homeless.

“Homeless people come in here sometimes,” she said as she led him back to a closet that she knew he had seen her go into when he lived in the basement, but had never asked about. She pulled out a few plastic zip bags and handed one over to him. Inside were common toiletries, packets of aspirin and small first aid kits. Some had razors and sample size cans of shaving foam, other had feminine hygiene products. “We keep these for the adults that come in. Sometimes, they just want something to eat, and sometimes, they need a little bit more. Once in a great while, a kid might come in, or Denzel might bring along an old friend. We usually keep toys and books handy, and there’s a number for a child advocacy group by all of the phones.”

Tifa paused in her explanations and watched Sephiroth for a moment. He studied the care package in his hands and then returned it to her. She put it back and studied his face before she closed up the storage closet again. “You’re thinking. I can smell wood burning. Out with it.”

“You said Denzel sometimes… brings children to your attention?” he asked, which she hadn’t expected him to inquire about.

“Yeah. He used to be homeless. Cloud found him in the church in the Old Midgar Slums. A lot of kids with Geostigma hung out there. Not all of them trust adults, but they usually trust Denzel.” Tifa led Sephiroth back to the kitchen area to have him help her prepare some sandwiches for that afternoon. “Sometimes we can help them, and sometimes they don’t want our help.” She pulled a couple of loaves of bread from their fridge and handed them to Sephiroth. She took out lettuce, tomatoes and onions and piled them on the center work station. “We can’t really decide for them – we want any kids who show up here to know we’re not going to just take them away. It’s hard to do, but we’re not an orphanage. We can only help those who want to be helped.” She gestured for Sephiroth to join her; he had gotten quiet and contemplative again. At least that odd, aloof smile had dissipated. It had been unnerving. “You’re thinking again.” She went over to the slop sink and washed her hands before she would get into slicing things.

“My apologies,” murmured Sephiroth. He set the loaves of bread on the counter top and took his turn at washing his own hands before he returned to Tifa’s side. “You recall the… vision I told you about?”

Tifa’s hand hesitated over her knife block before she pulled out the chef’s knife. “Yes. I think you remember me being pretty shocked about it.”

“In that future, Denzel had brought home a little boy… according to… him.”

Tifa brought down her knife hard on the root of the lettuce head, enough to get a loud “crack!” sound out of the cutting board countertop. “Oh?” She remembered Sephiroth saying that he had _married_ Cloud, and that she had married someone else yet unnamed, but an awful feeling crept into her stomach, just before he confirmed it for her.

“We adopted the boy.”

Tifa took a long breath and pulled apart the lettuce. Anything to keep herself from doing the same to Sephiroth’s head. “Look… I know I said you’re changing, and you are.” She looked up from where she had torn apart the lettuce and made a mess of the countertop. “The fact that you’re willing to let me boss you around is… something. You brought me coffee and had this really… weirdly pleasant mood since you got in.” Tifa blew out another huff and turned away from the sharp object just laying right there. Conveniently. “But I’m still skeptical about this dream of yours.”

Sephiroth bowed his head and kept his gaze low. “I understand. Dreams are, much of the time, just pieces of information the mind weaves into a tapestry of beauty and lies. For once, one of mine felt like hope. I’m sorry.”

Tifa felt her eyes widen and her mouth go slack. The mental juggling she had to do to remember that Sephiroth had the capacity to be both humane and monstrous was exhausting. “How come you can say something so profound and so damn sad?” Tifa shook her head when Sephiroth looked up at her. At least there was one thing that was a constant with him. “Are you going to admit you have it in for Cloud?”

“I have what?”

The confusion in his voice made Tifa smile weakly as she turned to finish her work of pulling apart the lettuce head, this time with less violence. “You have a crush on Cloud. He’s treated you with more kindness and compassion-“

“-Than I readily deserve,” interrupted Sephiroth. He just stood by with no instructions yet, so Tifa gestured to a colander so she could wash the lettuce after she finished tearing it apart.

“Maybe you don’t deserve it. Maybe you actually need it,” said Tifa. She gestured with a lettuce leaf. “My point is, you came in here about as happy go lucky as I’ve ever seen you. So. How good was your Quiet Night?”

Tifa smirked and looked up at Sephiroth. The faint blush over his face was worth the winding path their conversation was on. “It was pleasant,” he said. Tifa watched Sephiroth turn away and pull out the loaves of bread from their bags and begin to stack pairs of slices.

“Pleasant?”

“Perhaps… Not entirely. I wept.”

Tifa’s eyebrows raised at that one, but she didn’t press him for more about why. Instead, she changed the subject. She decided to try something else. “You know, I think he’s good for you. If not… what you dream about, he’s certainly been a good friend.” She placed the good lettuce leaves in the colander as she talked.

Sephiroth hummed low in his throat and reached over to take the tomatoes from the table to the sink. “You’re not wrong. He has been a very good friend. If that is all he’s willing to offer, I can be content with it. And if my feelings _are_ … stronger than that of friendship, I would never simply take him away from you. I’ve done enough taking in my lives. I can be content with platonic companionship.”

Tifa turned and stared at the back of his head while he washed the tomatoes for her. “I didn’t say-“

“I’m not incapable of seeing how close you and he are. You’re protective of him. Even when Cloud’s not here, you stand between him and I.” Sephiroth returned to the table and placed the tomatoes back on the island top, but he stood close enough to Tifa that she felt backed into it. In spite of that threatening posture, Sephiroth frowned, no, Tifa was certain he _pouted_ as he continued. “I’m jealous of how intimate you are with one another.”

Tifa let her breath go when Sephiroth took a knife from the cutting block and stepped away from her. He began to cut out the stems from the tomatoes and slice them in silence. She watched him work for a moment more before she put her hand on his arm. He paused and she could see through his bangs that he glanced her way, and then carried on slicing.

“You know, we did try, me and Cloud,” said Tifa. She took up the large knife and started in on the onions. “After Meteorfall, we moved in together, and we tried to be romantic. Tried to be what a lot of people saw us as: lovers forged by the things we’d been through, passion tempered by blah, blah, blah…” She sniffed and rubbed at one eye with the back of her wrist. “Even before the Geostigma, we just fell into routine. We’d been through _so_ much, and together, that it was hard to have anything to talk about.” She rubbed at her eye again and muttered a curse at the onions. “We were content… But we couldn’t make it _work_.”

Sephiroth had made a fairly significant pile of tomato slices by the time her story brought him to a halt. “What… got in your way?” he asked. Tifa marveled a bit that his voice was both so deep and soft and even his question sounded so innocent.

“We weren’t ourselves.” Tifa turned away from the onions, no longer able to simply blame them for her tears but also unable to help the sheer burn. She blinked a few times and grabbed a paper towel to wipe at her face. “I never wanted to just be someone’s _wife_. That’s part of why I was pissed when you said I was married and pregnant. It’s not something I wanted for myself.”

Sephiroth put his knife down and wiped his hands on a towel as well. “You were quite happy with your husband, it seemed.” He paused and leaned one hand on the counter and shrugged his shoulders up. Tifa wiped at her face again as she realized he was trying to seem smaller, less threatening than before. “I never met him. His name was Johnny. And apparently he did not compliment you frequently enough.”

Tifa scoffed, balled up her paper towel and threw it at Sephiroth. He caught it and threw it away for her, unoffended by her actions. “Not enough people do. Not in a good way. Usually it’s just ‘hey, nice tits!’ and then I break a nose or two and there’s paperwork with the local police and it’s just a mess.”

Sephiroth stared incredulously at her, an eyebrow raised and his mouth bent in a crooked frown. His lips twitched and he tried desperately not to laugh.

“Don’t hurt yourself. Laugh, it was supposed to be funny.” Tifa smiled and Sephiroth broke into his quiet chuckles. “That’s better.”

After he calmed down, Sephiroth cleared his throat and stole the peeled onions from Tifa and began to slice them for her. “If it helps, you were radiant. However your life was, motherhood, perhaps on your terms, suited you.”

Tifa paused at that, and then took the colander of lettuce to the sink to rinse the leaves. “Well, maybe. I don’t think I’ve met this Johnny from your dreams, so maybe he’ll see me as more than a nice rack.”

Sephiroth murmured quietly behind her while the water ran over the lettuce. She shook out the bowl and brought it back, then elbowed his side. “What was that?” she asked. Tifa could see his face turn pink again.

“I said that …they are… nice.”

Tifa smirked and leaned against the work island, so Sephiroth would have to look at her. He glanced away, and she giggled a bit. “It’s okay if you think they’re nice. You haven’t pissed me off. Recently.”

Sephiroth looked back at her, clearly abashed for his compliment. “You nearly broke my jaw already,” he replied. She saw him glance downward and she grinned at him. His mind had clearly wandered off with his sense of control, but somehow she found it slightly endearing. Perhaps because even a quick look turned him bright red.

Before she could tease him further, Tifa heard the front door’s bell chime and she looked up at the kitchen clock. “Dammit, I took too long,” she said, as she realized mid-morning had started to approach the lunch hours and she needed to be out front. “Stay here, just put together the vegetables on the bread and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Sephiroth nodded, perhaps relieved that he was not going to be embarrassed further, though Tifa made a mental note to tease him a bit more later.

As Tifa went out to the front, she put on her best business-woman smile and began to greet her customers when she recognized the suits. Especially the blond man all in white. Tifa’s smile fell right off of her face and she folded her arms over her chest. “Good morning, Rufus.”

The ex-president turned and gave her his most charming, oiliest smile and took a seat at her bar. Tseng and Elena sat to his sides and he casually picked up a menu. “Mmm, I don’t think I’ve ever been to an establishment with so few options,” he said. He turned over the small menu card in his hand and made a face at the alcohol selection. “Or such cheap booze.”

Tifa stood behind her bar with her hands braced on the polished top. “Rufus, you didn’t come here to insult my establishment. Either order something or get out. I have to handle weekdays by myself.”

Rufus smirked and leaned on his elbows. “So I see. I have heard a rumor that Cloud has moved out. On his own? It must be hard, two close friends finally splitting up after all those years spent together.”

Tifa just shook her head and gave Rufus’ challenging stare back to him. “Cloud needed his own space. Who am I to tell him what to do? That usually just results in him driving all over the continent with his swords and that chip on his shoulder.”

Rufus did not waver; instead, he snapped his fingers to Elena, who stood from her stool. “Elena, help Ms. Lockhart in the kitchen. I’m sure she needs a hand fixing those sandwiches she offers the homeless.”

“Right!” replied Elena, as she darted around the bar top and into the kitchen. She did not draw her weapon, but did push the doors open quickly. She took a long peer through the kitchen before she went in entirely.

Tifa could see Elena vanish into the kitchen from the corner of her eye, but kept her gaze on Rufus. She maintained her breathing and her composure; she had won too many poker games with Barret to make an obvious tell.

A few minutes later, Elena came back to the main room, a puzzled look on her face. She scratched at her head and shrugged as she sat down beside Rufus once more. Tseng peeked over at his protégé and gave her a look that Tifa couldn’t read, but Elena just continued to look confused.

“Well, now that you’ve just sat here for five minutes and stared at me, would you like to order? It’s a little early for beer, but maybe you’d like one for the road?” asked Tifa. Now that Elena seemed to find nothing, she wanted to know how Sephiroth had managed to disappear so quickly – and _quietly_.

Rufus frowned and stood himself. He pulled his short-barrel shotgun out from under that long coat of his and headed towards the kitchen himself. Tifa gave chase to him and pulled on his elbow.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she demanded, and saw Rufus flinch at the volume from her being so close. Tseng had come up behind her and attempted to pry her arms free from Rufus’ but she was still much stronger than he was. “Unless you’ve seen a fucking Behemoth sneak in here, Rufus, put that thing away!”

Rufus (now with Elena’s arms wrapped around his waist) started to pull himself on one side while Tseng worked on Tifa. They went back and forth at this tug-of-war until Tifa let go – on purpose. She fell back on top of Tseng; Rufus and Elena tumbled into her kitchen, with Rufus on top of Elena.

Tifa sprang to her feet and tackled Rufus. She got the shotgun away from him and popped out the shells before someone got shot. “Rufus ShinRa, you’ve lost your damn mind!” she barked as she sat on the ex-president’s stomach. Elena groaned from underneath her boss.

“Sir, I swear to you, there’s no one here…” moaned Elena as she pulled herself from beneath him. Tseng joined them and lifted Tifa off of Rufus without fuss from her.

Rufus, still sprawled on the floor, glared up at Tifa – and by extension, Tseng. “I got news that Cloud visited Ajit. Nothing strange about visiting an old friend’s resting place, but then Highwind comes back from there injured. Cloud’s not here, and you’re being defensive,” spat Rufus. He got to his feet, and he did so without assistance offered by Elena or Tseng.

“Of course I’m defensive! Rufus ShinRa, the guy who wanted to have me executed on _live television_ , by a fucking _gas chamber,_ shows up in my bar and starts waving around his fucking shotgun!” yelled Tifa. “And for no goddamned reason!”

“Sir, please…” said Tseng, as he spoke for the first time since they had arrived. He reached around Tifa and gently pried the gun from her grip; she let it go only because it was Tseng. If Rufus had tried for it, he would have been hit with the butt of the rifle and she wouldn’t give it up.

Rufus huffed and smoothed back his hair with both hands. “Very well. I can see my subordinates think themselves my caretakers, rather than bodyguards.” He gestured at Elena. “Help her clean this up, then. If anything is damaged, send me the bill.”

Rufus then pushed past both of his bodyguards and out into the main room of the bar. Tseng followed after he picked up the shotgun shells and pocketed them. He turned and gave Tifa a somber nod of apology before he went through the swinging doors to the dining area.

Elena grabbed a broom and started to sweep, even though they had not really knocked anything over. Tifa thought to send Rufus a “bill” anyway. A little extra money never hurt. “Look, Elena, you don’t have to do anything…” began Tifa. She tried to take the broom away but Elena pulled out of her reach.

“I know we’re not in the business of making Boss’ enemies go away anymore, but…” Elena sighed and swept at Tifa’s relatively clean kitchen floor. “Since the Remnant Event, Mr. ShinRa has been rather… jumpy. He skirted really close to death, between Kadaj kidnapping him and then he jumped out of that building, trusting me and Tseng to keep him alive when _we_ were held together with medical tape and gauze. On top of all that, he had some pretty bad Geostigma.”

Tifa frowned and leaned closer. Elena had been the least problematic Turk but also the trickiest. She could seem sweet and innocent and overeager, but then, Reno prided himself on acting like a puffed-up jackass. Neither of them were even close to their outward personas. Still, Elena was far more reasonable than the others. Tifa gently touched Elena’s shoulder and lowered her voice. “Look, if he’s being extra foolish because he’s got a new lease on life, you guys need to keep him from going into the deep end.”

“He’s afraid. Sephiroth’s come back twice now, and once was thanks to your boyfriend handing over the Black Materia,” hissed Elena. “I get it, you and Cloud have literally been to the end of the world together, and that’s really cute and all, but we need to know… Cloud’s good, right? He’s not…” She looked out toward the front room, where Tseng and Rufus were. “Why’d he really move out?”

Tifa bit her lip and did her best to act like she and Cloud had “broken up.” She cast her eyes down and worked up a few tears, which she rubbed away and shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. Cloud just needed his own space. And I needed mine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me, he’s fine. Last time he needed space, he was living at the church in Old Midgar. An apartment’s a much better place, don’t you think?” asked Tifa. She reached closer and took the broom from Elena, who gave it up without further fuss.

“I suppose so. Just…” Elena tucked a few blond strands over her ear and looked toward the door. “Call me if anything weird happens, okay? You still have my number?”

Tifa smiled warmly. She leaned closer into Elena’s personal bubble again and put a hand on her shoulder, her thumb swiped quickly over the bare patch of skin between Elena’s hair and her shirt collar. “Of course. I might just call anyway.”

Elena made a small “peep” noise and turned red. Tseng opened up the kitchen doors and gave Elena a significant look. “I should go!” Elena said, and darted past Tifa to the main room. A few moments later, Tifa heard the bell to her front door chime as Rufus, Tseng and Elena left.

Tifa let out a sigh of relief as she heard them leave, but she knew that she was not yet rid of Rufus or the Turks. For one thing, they had left all too easily and without a dramatic retreat by Rufus. For another, they had been left alone in both her kitchen and her front room – she would have to do a sweep for listening devices.

“First thing’s first,” she murmured to herself, and went to her freezer. She pulled the door open and—found it to contain nothing more than the few tubs of ice cream and meats that she’d shown Sephiroth earlier. “Okay…” She turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin when the man she’d been looking for appeared behind her, a skeptical look on his face. He had managed to sneak up on her – again – silently.

“Wha—hmm.” Tifa jumped and closed both of her hands over his mouth. When she moved her hands away, Tifa gestured for him to stay quiet and stay put. She ran to the front room and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen. Back into the kitchen, Sephiroth leaned against the counter with a frown on his face.

Tifa scrawled out _Rufus, Tseng and Elena were here. Probably bugged us_ and passed the sheet to him. Sephiroth took a deep breath and shook his head. He wrote back: _I thought so. I hid upstairs._

Tifa threw her hands up and nodded. At least he had thought to bolt for the second floor. She didn’t know why she thought he’d be in the freezer, other than it was big enough. _How do we find the bugs?_ she wrote, then cast a look around her kitchen.

Sephiroth gestured to her and pointed out her wall phone, her smoke detector and the meter for the freezer. After they took  an hour to assess all of the reasonable spots, they went into the dining area and searched the bar, the phones out front, and even the door chime. They found a few small listening devices stuck to Tifa’s phones. Sephiroth crushed them in his hands and dumped the pieces in Tifa’s trash can.

“They were fairly obvious about that,” said Sephiroth.

Tifa nodded in agreement. “They probably will surveille the bar for a while. I don’t know how you’re going to get out of here without a clever disguise. Or without busting a few skulls.” She punched her fist into her open palm. Rufus’ presence had gotten her worked up enough that it sounded like a lovely way to spend the rest of the afternoon.

Sephiroth frowned and shook his head. “Let them come for me, then. I’m technically dead, so they have no reason to arrest me. I can’t possibly be a wanted man.”

Tifa huffed and sat with him at her bar. Because of Rufus’ appearance, she resigned to no one coming in. “I guess we’re closing early today. No one wants to be seen at a place the Turks have been.” Sephiroth draped an arm across her shoulders and she leaned into him.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I had hoped to at least _give_ something out. I’ll have to take some food to the homeless shelter…” she said quietly. Sephiroth just hummed in agreement and rubbed at her arm. Being so close to him, she nearly knocked Sephiroth off of his stool when she heard her front door chime ring.

“Welcome to—oh, hi, Cloud…” Tifa had jumped up and then deflated at the site of her friend.

Cloud raised a brow. “Thanks… Something I’m missing?” he asked. “Where is everybody? You usually have someone hanging out here late…”

Sephiroth turned around on his own stool and looked to Cloud. “Rufus, Tseng and Elena were here. They left a couple of listening devices. Amateur hour for them, but I expect they don’t have the same resources they used to.”

Cloud crossed the room and gave Tifa a firm hug. She held him for a minute before she pulled away. “I saw that grumpy look,” she said. “Did you have a rough morning? Better than mine, I hope.”

“Something like that,” murmured Cloud. “I had to check on Cid. He…” Cloud eyed Sephiroth over Tifa’s shoulder, and then looked back at her. “He got hurt. Nothing too serious, but Reeve grounded him. So, naturally, the Turks were snooping around there, too. Had to throw Reno around.”

Tifa snorted and pulled away from Cloud. “Just Reno? Rude was probably watching the airship, then.”

Sephiroth spoke up from where he sat at the bar. “They’re going to make your lives miserable.”

“Too late,” chuckled Cloud.

Sephiroth didn’t laugh and just shook his head. “No, they’re going to follow you around while looking for me.”

Tifa raised a hand. “Wait a minute, they don’t seem to really know if you’re even alive. They’re just acting on Rufus’ paranoid orders.”

“Reno suggested that maybe … _she…_ had come back,” said Cloud. He scoffed and walked around the both of them to the bar and helped himself to a beer. “And that’s why you kicked me out. Jealousy.”

Tifa came back and sat on a stool again, across from where Cloud leaned. “That makes less sense, even for Reno.” She looked up when Sephiroth folded his hands in front of his face and gave a deep, breathy hum. He had a somber look on his face, which, any other time, would be par for the course. But she recalled how ‘light’ he had seemed early that morning. “What’s eating you?”

“You both are going to great lengths to provide for me, and protect me. I’m trying to reconcile with the idea,” he replied. “You could have easily turned me over to Rufus, who may yet be able to restrain me. Even though his company is gone, many of those who worked for him are not. Someone could still…”

Cloud reached over the bar’s top and put a hand on Sephiroth’s steepled fingers. Tifa noticed Sephiroth draw a small breath in and focus on Cloud’s face. “Hey, look… we’ve had a lot of bad blood between the three of us. But that doesn’t mean we’re just going to let Rufus ShinRa have you. If anyone’s going to take you out, it’s gonna be me.” There was a smirk on Cloud’s face; Sephiroth smiled back and ducked his head. Tifa looked between them both for a few moments, and then broke in:

“Hey, Sephiroth, why don’t you get out some of those sandwich makings we prepared earlier? I’m starving. You remember where everything is, don’t you?” she asked.

Sephiroth nodded and got up from his seat. Once he had passed through the double doors, Tifa looked back at Cloud.

“Okay, spill. What happened?” she asked. She reached over the countertop and pulled him close by his shirt front.

Cloud just stared at her, slightly horrified. Rufus had really worked up her aggression. “What do you mean?”

“This morning he came in with coffee, _for me,_ that he made himself,” she whispered. “And the way he walked down the street… I mean, anyone else, it was walking. But for Sephiroth… he might as well have been dancing.”

“Nothing _happened_. We went back to the apartment, he showered, we talked, ate some pizza, he cried on my shoulder, then fell asleep on my lap,” said Cloud. He looked away and stood back with his beer against his lips. “I watched a movie while he was asleep.”

Tifa raised a brow and leaned away him to fold her arms over her chest. “Oh? That all? Then how come he was walking on air this morning? Like maybe he’d just gotten lai-”

“I don’t know. He’s weird.” Cloud interrupted her and still avoided direct eye contact. He lightly rubbed the beer bottle against his bottom lip and she could see his gaze go unfocused while he searched for what to say.

“Cloud.”

“I might have…” Cloud took another step back, up against her liquor wall. “Kissed his cheek.”

Tifa gaped at Cloud. Sex almost seemed like a more realistic possibility. They were combatants – violent, bitter rivals and all that but… “You what?” she stage whispered.

“It was just a small kiss. He looked like he needed it.” Cloud sighed and waved his bottle at her. “You would have done the same thing. It wasn’t anything… huge.”

Before Tifa could argue further, Sephiroth came back to the front room with a tray of two plates, made up with open sandwiches, a small arrangement of cold cuts and condiments. He settled the tray between Cloud and Tifa and sat. There was a third plate with a completed sandwich, he took for himself, but he did not start in right away.

“You’re not very good whisperers,” began Sephiroth. “But, Tifa, if you are so concerned, you could have asked me. I would have told you the truth. I have slept _on_ Cloud, but not with him. Cloud saw I was distressed and gave me what comforts he could. A kindness I have rarely been afforded. I might have been… behaving differently this morning because I did achieve a release – **an emotional one.”**

Tifa sighed and grabbed her plate. She felt a little ashamed to think that Sephiroth would just jump into bed with Cloud. Especially after their conversation in the kitchen. “I’m not saying you didn’t deserve a little gentle care, Sephiroth. I just have never seen, well… _you_ be so happy. It surprised me.”

Sephiroth huffed, but a hint of a smile ghosted over his lips. “All because you think I have a crush on Cloud.”

Cloud immediately started to gag and rubbed at his nose. Beer spilled from his lips and dribbled down his shirt. “Wait, what? I missed something.” He grabbed for a napkin and wiped at his face.

Sephiroth lifted his sandwich and said, flatly: “Tifa believes I have a ‘crush’ on you. Like a teenager.”

Tifa pointed a mustard-covered bread knife at Sephiroth as she paused in making her own sandwich. “Hey, I just said you like him. A lot.”

“You specifically used the word ‘crush.’ Because I greatly appreciate how compassionate Cloud chooses to be towards me.” Sephiroth looked at Cloud, who was still half-stooped with a napkin held to his mouth. “Maybe I feel strongly… attached, because Cloud has become significant in my life. And deaths.” Sephiroth began to eat, which left the two of them to gape at him.

Cloud slowly wiped at his shirt and tossed the used napkin when he was done. “Sephiroth, you’re not upset, are you?” Sephiroth just shook his head. Cloud reached out and touched his arm again. “I really do want you to get better. There’s a lot you still need to unpack. And if…” Tifa watched Cloud’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed before he continued. “…If you have feelings for me, you can tell me.”

Tifa grew quiet as she sat there and stared at her own meal. Her appetite had dwindled in light of everything that had happened just that morning, even though she had not yet eaten; right there, beside her, Cloud and Sephiroth continued to bond. “I think I’m going to go upstairs,” she murmured as she gathered her plate and began to rise from her seat.

Cloud and Sephiroth both caught one of her hands. That they stopped her at all made her gasp and she stopped moving. She looked back and forth between the two of them, surprised.

“Tifa, I’ve made you uncomfortable,” said Sephiroth, while Cloud just gave her his puppy eyes.

“Ti… don’t feel excluded,” Cloud added. “We’re in this together.” He looked to Sephiroth. “Right?”

Sephiroth nodded and Tifa felt his thumb massage the inside of her wrist, right at her pulse point. “Of course. I would not wish to carry on without you, Tifa. If you don’t mind continuing to have me. As you are important to Cloud… you are important to me. He is not the only one of significance.”

Tifa felt her face redden. She set down her plate and reached out to pull both of them close. “What would you morons do without me?” she said, a laugh in her words. She felt tears well at the corners of her eyes, touched by both of them just being there for her.  

“Probably suffer greatly,” suggested Sephiroth.

“And be lost,” muttered Cloud. Tifa let him go first and watched him drop back behind the bar. When he stood again, there was a soft smile on Cloud’s face. “I wouldn’t be standing here without you, Ti.”

Tifa closed her hands onto Sephiroth’s arm and stuck her tongue out at Cloud. “You know, I think you’re making him sweeter.” She motioned toward Sephiroth with a toss of her head. “You’re a good influence on him. Which is good, because I can be a bad one,” she added with a smirk. Cloud’s face took on a pink tone again.

“You’re a confusing woman, Tifa,” replied Sephiroth. He placed a long-fingered hand over both of hers. “I can’t tell if you’re going to hug me, or hit me, much of the time.”

“Good,” said Tifa. She smiled up at him. “I don’t want to be predictable.”


	14. Photo Negative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cid and Vincent visit 7th Heaven before they leave for Nibelheim

They hadn't even left the West Continent yet. Cid had made sure the whole crew had gone over every nook, cranny, and even each other to make sure that neither of the Turks Cloud had run into had left some sort of tracer device on his ship.

Cid even disassembled Venus Gospel and inspected every piece himself to make sure his beloved spear hadn't been tampered with. When he found no tracers on his weapon or his clothing, Cid stripped himself naked and stood in front of a mirror to make sure a sneaky redhead or his bald buddy hadn't slipped in and as he announced to his crew “stuck somethin' up his ass.”

Naturally, his second in command said “too late” and was promptly swatted upside the head for his cheek. The rest of the crew aboard the _Shera_ had a good laugh until Vincent rejoined them at the bridge; for some reason, the crew always seemed to sober up around Vincent, as if _he_ were the Captain and Cid was just some goofball who liked to yell at them sometimes.

Vincent stood beside Cid and rumbled in his usually flat tones, “I have inspected the upper reaches of the airship's hull. No anomalous devices were detected,” as a report of his own search.

“Wait, you got on the goddamned roof?!” asked Cid. Ordinarily, that would not be so out of place, but they had lifted off of the ground before their undertaking, as Cid had wanted to get on the way with Cloud's request that they visit Nibelheim. “We're like a mile in the goddamned air!”

Vincent turned and stared into him with those burning red eyes of his. Cid just stared right back and waited for an explanation. Instead, Vincent replied, “You speak as if you had not climbed onto a dragon's back just to stab it in the eye.”

Cid cleared his throat and looked away. “Yeah, well, that's different. It wasn't in flight! Weren't you cold er... somethin'?”

 _“Cid.”_ It was just his name, but the short, curt way Vincent said it spoke louder than Cid on a bender.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It's _you._ Vincent 'I-can-do-whatever-the-hell-I-want' Valentine. Jus' _tell_ me next time yer gonna run all over my baby like that. I can at least set her on the ground so I don't gotta worry 'bout you gettin' yerself blown offa my ship!” said Cid. He leaned into Vincent's space and kept eye contact with that stoic glare. Vincent, for once, blinked first.

“As you wish, Chief.” Vincent turned his gaze toward the windows and where they overlooked the ocean. They had not really gone anywhere yet; thanks to the impromptu inspection, no one had been ready for more than just hovering in a holding pattern.

“I do wish I could meet him myself.”

That Vincent would request anything caught Cid off guard and he looked over at his be-cloaked companion. “Ya would, eh?” No reply. Cid pointed at Vincent. “You wanna see if he's like _her_ at all, don'tcha?” Still nothing, but that little was as much of an answer as a verbal response. “From what bit I saw of him on the first day, if anythin', he's more like _you_. Tall, quiet, intimidatin' to those who don't know better. But jus' like you, I ain't afraid'a him either.”

That much elicited a small response. Cid saw Vincent's lips tighten just over the top of his cowl until he ducked his head. “You can make a pass over Edge. I can jump from there.”

Cid rolled his eyes so hard, he was certain he pulled a muscle. “Look, I ain't yer papa-”

“Thankfully.”

“Don' interrupt! I ain't yer papa but I also ain't a goddamned taxi. I'm goin' with.”

Vincent and even his crew, turned to look at him.

“Sir, we're ready to go to Nibelheim... if he wants to stay behind...”

“...You should let him!” offered his men.

Cid just shook his head. “Since when do I take suggestions?! You lot bring us to a drop level. I wanna test out my new four-wheeler anyhow.” He grinned and turned to Vincent. “Hopefully it won't kill me to make the drop.” With that, he headed off toward his cargo bay again. He heard Vincent's footsteps behind him.

“You wanna see this thing, too? Been workin' on an air-to-ground transport. Somethin’ that would let one person leave the ship without havin’ ta constantly land’er.” Cid grinned broadly but Vincent did not look convinced. He didn’t have any readable expression. _Typical,_ thought Cid.

“And how would you return to the _Shera_ without her landing?” asked Vincent. He folded his arms over his chest and looked away. “Are you capable of taking off without a runway to build speed?” he continued. Cid’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, and he grumbled. “Fine, fine. Spoil sport. You jus’ don’t wanna see my new toy.”

Vincent growled low in his chest and Cid actually felt a chill come over him. “No. My concern is for your safety. I could survive such an impact. Your chances would be low.” He took a step forward and invaded Cid’s personal space; he loomed over Cid and pulled down his collar. Cid watched his lips more than Vincent’s blood-red glower as he spoke. “Tell them to land, Captain.”

Cid swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. “W-whatever you say, sweetheart,” he stammered. He had to wonder if Vincent knew something he didn’t, or if he only pulled out his old Turk manners when he needed to get a point across. Either way, Cid’s heart couldn’t take the shock of having Vincent six inches from his face – and how he got demanding!

Eyes on Vincent, Cid groped at the nearby wall just outside of the cargo bay door and smacked it. Vincent stayed right where he was, as if to make sure Cid would do what he asked. “Hey, fellas, change of plans. Jus’ take’er down nice an’ easy. I’m gonna take the 4x4 inta town. Don’t wanna bust up Vincent’s long model legs with him riskin’ a jump!” he said. Vincent’s eyes widened – just barely, but Cid could see with the way he leaned over the pilot – and he backed away with a grunt.

“I take it you only have one?” asked Vincent, once he was again beyond an arm’s reach from Cid.

“You betcha.” Cid smirked. Threats never worked on Vincent – the man had simply been through too much for the impact to make a difference. _Compliments,_ not to mention the affectionate monikers… threw him off balance. The wicked imp of Cid’s ego rubbed its hands together over this information as the _Shera_ made a careful landing just outside the city’s limits.

 

Cid’s 4×4 was a small machine; it was not incredibly powerful nor built to be explicitly fast. It was a serviceable ATV that he used to get from point A to point B with little difficulty. He could hitch a trailer to it and tow up to an additional five-hundred pounds with it. It didn’t have a roof or a roll-cage. It was just designed to be functional...

...For a solo operator. It had never been designed with a passenger in mind, nor had Cid ever intended on it. Which had a deeply-hidden part of Cid thank his past-self for the lack of forethought while he drove through Edge City toward 7th Heaven—with Vincent hunched over his back, long arms snaked around Cid’s waist for security. Though the 4×4 was not a particularly tricky vehicle and had suspension that allowed him to go over rocks and debris with relative ease, Cid still kept the vehicle at a leisurely speed as he drove.

The trip to 7th Heaven was a quiet one. The day had gone into mid-afternoon and most people were still at work. Once, as they passed a glass-walled building through the nicer part of town, Cid caught a reflection of himself with Vincent hugged up against him; the sight made him glad Vincent couldn’t see the sad smile on his face.

Once they pulled up, Cid parked beside Cloud’s Fenrir and the two of them entered a mostly-empty 7th Heaven. Cloud was behind the bar, with Tifa and Sephiroth seated in front of it like they were the customers. Cid scratched at the back of his head and put up Venus Gospel by the door. Cloud gave them a nod of acknowledgment; Cid noticed the all too familiar sour look on Cloud’s face.

“Slow night?” he guessed as he crossed the dining area first. “Lemme guess. Turk infestation?”

Tifa sighed and spun around on her stool and leaned back against the bar. “Give the man a prize. Tseng, Elena and the Rat King himself were here. Even though his company is long done-for, just the sight of Rufus ShionRa makes people avoid this place like we’ve got cockroaches.”

Cid snorted and leaned up against the bar beside Tifa. He noticed Sephiroth sat rather stiffly in his seat but he didn’t really care as to why. Let the man be tense. “Honestly, darlin’, I think people’d rather eat with roaches than Rufus.”

Vincent’s armor creaked and clinked softly, just enough to get Cid’s attention as he crossed the room and stood behind Sephiroth. Cloud stood noticeably straighter and Cid could see Cloud’s eyes flick from Sephiroth’s face to Vincent’s as Vincent drew his gun and pressed it up against the back of Sephiroth’s head.

“Stand up, slowly,” he ordered. Cid stared at Vincent; his eyebrows raised high on his face. He hadn’t seen this coming – he figured Vincent would just stare forlornly at Sephiroth in silence as the last reminder of his long-gone wife-that-never-was.

Sephiroth complied with Vincent’s request and slipped off of his stool. He kept his back to Vincent and raised both hands so they were in plain sight to everyone in the room.

“Turn around.” Sephiroth once again complied with Vincent’s request as he slowly turned to face Vincent over the triple-barrel of Death Penalty. Vincent pulled back the hammer of his gun, but otherwise did not move as he engaged in a stare-off with Sephiroth.

After a moment of tense silence, Cloud spoke up. “For Planet’s sake, Vincent, stand down.” Vincent did not take his eyes off of Sephiroth, but gently eased the hammer back into place and engaged the safety. Cid felt himself let go of his held breath as Vincent backed down from nearly blowing Sephiroth’s head off; Vincent tucked away his weapon.

Sephiroth lowered his hands and shook his head. “Good to know I am still seen as a threat,” he muttered, which made Cid scoff.

“You’re lucky he didn’t jus’ blow you away for bein’ here,” said Cid. He hopped up on the stool beside Tifa and reached over the bar to snag a glass and fill it himself from the tap. It earned him a slap on the back from Tifa, but he murmured a promise to pay for his drink before he settled down to sit. “It’s true, though,” he carried on, mind on his original thought. “You caused his girlfriend a lotta grief.”

“Excuse me?” asked Sephiroth. At the same time, Vincent rumbled: “She was not my girlfriend.”

Cid just waved his hand in both their directions. As it was, he felt a little disoriented from witnessing Vincent’s threat. They had given each other a very similar glare and introduced a new, uncomfortable feeling in Cid’s gut. “Am I gonna hafta explain? You should tell him, sweetheart, what you know ‘bout Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth turned again to Vincent and watched him. Vincent shot a look to Cid for bringing it up, and then turned himself away. “I would prefer to discuss the past in a more private setting.”

Tifa gestured toward the kitchen. “You can head up the back to the apartment upstairs. I’ll be up in a bit. No one’s coming in,” she said and Cid felt bad for her. For all Tifa did, just one appearance of Rufus ShinRa meant her business would suffer, even if for a day. He made a mental note to yell at Reeve to rein in Rufus.

“C’mon, let’s go up together,” suggested Cloud, which drew Cid to the present. Cid dropped a generous amount of Gil for his beer and carried his drink with him as everyone, save Tifa, began to file upstairs.

 

Once they were all filed into Tifa’s apartment, Vincent went to every window and ensured the curtains were drawn, which cast the place into an unnatural darkness. Cloud and Sephiroth separated and switched on a few lights, then joined Vincent in Tifa’s living room. Cid couldn’t help but notice they sat beside one another on her couch while he took one of the armchairs for himself. Vincent chose to stand, and Cid could only think he was doing it to be dramatic – he stood over Sephiroth with his arms folded and just stared down at him. Sephiroth stared back up, more patient than Cid would be if being forced to wait for Vincent to start talking.

“I knew your mother,” began Vincent. Cid could see the tension spread into Sephiroth; his shoulders rolled back and he sat up straighter. Cid noticed that Cloud put a hand on Sephiroth’s arm and just watched his face.

“Your real mother was a scientist who worked with Professor Hojo,” Vincent continued. Sephiroth nodded and closed his eyes briefly. It made enough sense, after all. “Hojo claimed to be your father when we finally ended his career.” Vincent’s eyes looked toward Cloud, who Cid noticed remained quiet. It was Vincent’s story.

“What was her name?” asked Sephiroth.

“Her name is Lucrecia Crescent. I was assigned to her when I was part of the Department of Administrative Research – the starting point for the Turks.” Vincent paused again, to allow Sephiroth to absorb the information. “She volunteered herself as a candidate for the Jenova project – I objected to her using herself as a host, but she had already been treated with Jenova cells.”

Sephiroth looked away at that point and clasped Cloud’s hand. Cid raised a brow at the reach. Somewhere between Sephiroth’s return and the present, Sephiroth had come to rely on Cloud for support – and Cloud let him. “It would not be beneath Hojo to convince anyone that they were an ‘integral part’ of his research. Even the mother of his own child,” said Sephiroth with a shudder. “He told me **nothing** real about my mother, then.”

“Hojo never formed attachments to anything but his research. I’m certain his wedding Lucrecia was only to insure her compliance,” added Vincent. His soft voice grew quieter and he finally took the seat closer to the couch. He still looked horribly out of place with the cloak and his armor, while even Sephiroth seemed more at home in Tifa’s place. “Lucrecia brought me back from death when Hojo shot me for trying to interfere. You must understand that she was never a cruel woman.”

Sephiroth nodded and looked to Vincent. “Thank you, for telling me about her… Vincent, was it? I would have liked to have known her.”

Cid sat forward, his eyes on Sephiroth and Vincent’s profiles. The way they sat, the look of their faces in profile. Vincent’s nose was a little longer, a little sharper, but the shape of their eyes was... Cid coughed, looked away, and sipped at his beer. “Y…yanno, Vince… you could take him to see’er. I’m sure she’d love ta tell him she’s sorry herself.”

Sephiroth looked up and Cid felt all eyes on him. The room got quiet, which made Cid jump in his seat when Tifa joined them upstairs. “Is everything okay?” she asked, when she saw Cid clutch at his chest like a frightened old lady.

“You said…” Sephiroth looked at Vincent. “I thought she was dead. Hojo would never leave a loose end…”

Vincent cut him off. “Lucrecia put herself into exile. She still lives, sustained by the Jenova cells in her body. She is in a cave, hidden away in a crater.”

Tifa sat on the arm of Cid’s chair and rubbed at his arm. He absently patted at her thigh in gratitude while he watched Sephiroth get up out of his seat and leave the room. Cloud took a deep breath and gave him a moment before he followed.

“That was dramatic,” murmured Tifa.

Vincent stood again and looked to the hallway where Sephiroth and Cloud had disappeared. He turned to look back at Cid, but half his face was tucked down behind his cowl. “I did not expect him to take it well. I did not expect any reaction.”

Cid leaned back, still soothed by Tifa’s granted attention. “Well, you kinda gave him somethin’ he’d been looking for, right? Cloud said he’d been looking into his past. He had to know it wasn’t gonna be pretty.”

Sephiroth’s voice came from the living room entrance, where he and Cloud had come back. Cloud had his hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder like an anchor. “Captain Highwind is correct. It’s something I was looking for, for a very long time. I think some foolishly optimistic part of me did not want to believe that my mother would _volunteer.”_ There was a pause where Sephiroth drew in a deep breath. “Perhaps, one day, I will meet her,” he added, quieter. “Currently, I have a more pressing issue.”

Tifa got up from where she sat with Cid and clapped her hands together. “Well, we can worry about sneaking you out of here later. Since we’re all here, it’s been a while since we’ve had a family gathering. I say we order a pizza.”

Everyone turned and looked at Tifa. She just shrugged. “Fine, two pizzas. I’ve had a long day. Dealing with Ruthless ShinRa was draining enough. I’m not going to cook for four men and a growing boy.”

Vincent took a deep breath and shook his head. He retreated back to the seat he’d taken and seemed to curl into his cloak. Sephiroth sank back onto the couch while Cloud went off to the kitchen with Tifa, either to “assist” in choosing their dinner or to simply escape the soupy tension that formed in the living room.

Cid put his empty glass on one of Tifa’s side tables and changed how he sat, one leg tucked up under him. He watched Vincent lean back and brood under the protection of his wild hair and that damned cowl, while Sephiroth’s pensive pose-of-choice was similar, except he only had the wall of his arms instead of a possibly sentient cloak to hide behind.

The similarities were too striking for Cid to really ignore. “Okay, I’m gonna prolly regret bringin’ this up, but…Vince…?” Cid paused and proudly did not balk when Vincent’s burning gaze sought him out. “You really sure that Hojo’s his pop?”

Now he had Sephiroth’s attention, if the mass of silver hair that lifted was any indication. “Why would he not be? Using his parentage as leverage against me had been an easy means of control. But I was compliant enough that he never really-“

“Never made ya call him ‘dad?’ Or even ‘father?’ What about any other doc?” Cid pressed. Sephiroth paused and his eyes shifted right.

“Dr. Gast never asked anything of me, not unless it was strictly research.” Sephiroth hesitated and tightened his arms over his chest. “Except that I use ‘Gast’ instead of ‘Faremis,’ his last name. He was… kinder.”

“Right,” said Cid. He felt like he might be onto something, but he feared rebuke from Vincent if the gunslinger caught onto his train of thought. “But he didn’t want you to treat him like a father, either.”

“Correct,” said Sephiroth. He glanced toward Vincent, who did not indicate he had any idea what Cid was getting at, either. Then again, Cid knew damn well that Vincent could win a staring contest with a boulder. “I do hope you have a point, Highwind.”

The pairs of eyes that stared at Cid did start to unnerve him, but not just because he was faced with two of the Planet’s most dangerous men. The slope of their profiles, the shape of their eyes, the contrast of the red to green, black to silver… the particular way their lips pressed together in almost the same grumpy frown…

“I’m jus’ suggestin’ maybe yer dad wasn’t Hojo,” offered Cid.

Sephiroth’s bark of disbelief and shake of his head were expected, but Cid was surprised that Sephiroth’s voice could get so loud. He flinched and rubbed at his ear; the sound had dragged Cloud back into the living room with a look of confusion on his face.

“Is everything okay?” asked Cloud. He looked over to where Sephiroth sat with his hand over his mouth as his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. Though Cid was certain he didn’t find anything funny.

“Of course,” said Sephiroth. He gave Cid an icy glare for a split second before he turned a more pleasant smile toward Cloud. “Highwind just suggested that Hojo was not my father. But that would suggest a third party was complacent in my design, and the odds of _three_ horrible humans…” Sephiroth stood up and wobbled on his feet. Cloud reached out and snagged him by his shirt. Sephiroth hung from Cloud’s grip, a sad grimace of a smile plastered on his face. “Coming together to conceive something like _me_ is **hilarious.** ”

Cloud stood beside Sephiroth and held onto him before he stormed off again. “Take it easy,” murmured Cloud. An arm circled behind Sephiroth’s back and Cloud’s hand smoothed over Sephiroth’s spine like he might calm a spooked Chocobo. Cid’s lips pressed into a thin line as he watched; Cloud was too kind, sometimes, and Cid hoped Sephiroth would never take it for granted. While he watched Cloud ease Sephiroth back onto the couch, Cid could feel Vincent’s glare on the side of his face like an open flame. Vincent stood next, swift movements punctuated by creaks of leather. He loomed over Cid and spoke, deep and serious as ever.

“I believe Cid has had enough for today,” said Vincent. He snatched Cid’s stolen bar glass and brought it to the kitchen. Sephiroth watched him pass with an attempt at an aloof stare, but his head swiveled a bit loosely on his neck.

“So it wasn’t one’a my better ideas,” grumbled Cid. “I wasn’t tryin’ to imply that… yer parents had much of a choice, Sephiroth. Or _any_ choice in the matter.

\---------------------------

Vincent joined Tifa in the kitchen just as she hung up from placing her food order. Vincent was never really fond of the flat bread dish, but Cloud and Tifa seemed enamored with it, possibly because of their sheltered lives in Nibelheim. They were adults, and took advantage of the fact that they could order what they liked, when they liked, whenever the opportunity arose. It was something Vincent never begrudged either of them. Their held-onto youthfulness was refreshing in comparison to Vincent's much bleaker life.

“Oh! Vincent.” Tifa smiled when she turned and found him behind her. She collected the glass from his hand and put it by the sink. “You really need to learn how to make noise.”

“To do that would be to undo my existence,” replied Vincent with a mild pull of his lips toward a smile. “Stealth has always been my strong suit.”

“I'll say.” Tifa looked toward the living room; It was obvious that Vincent stayed in the kitchen for a reason and loomed there like a dark shadow. “So... Cid annoying you early today?” she asked with a smile of her own.

“Mm. Cid has a penchant for...” Vincent's voice trailed as the appropriate descriptors left him. There were many words to describe Cid Highwind. Some of them were expletives.

“Being Cid,” laughed Tifa.

“Indeed.” Vincent shifted his gaze; downstairs, he heard a voice call out as the back door opened. “Denzel is home.”

Tifa grinned now and patted Vincent's chest. “Your super hearing is a gift sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” repeated Vincent.

They were treated a moment later to the sound of feet coming up the back steps and sure enough, Denzel appeared in the kitchen door, short of breath and a little confused. He went to hug Tifa and gave Vincent a respectful nod.

“Hi, Ti. Hello, Mr. Valentine,” said Denzel as he bowed his head.

“You may call me ‘Vincent,’ Denzel. But I appreciate the respect,” replied Vincent. He gave the boy a small bow as Denzel passed to the living room. Vincent heard him greet Cloud and Sephiroth and even Cid with a more enthusiastic salutation than Vincent received.

Tifa must have noticed the way Vincent’s eyes lingered in the direction of the living room. She spoke up with a hand rested on Vincent’s shoulder. “You know he’s not afraid of you. He just doesn’t get to see you that often.”

“Thank you, Tifa, but I am not offended. The boy has his preferred people. All children do,” Vincent replied. “I was not very well received in the past, either.”

Tifa shook her head and gave him a pinch through the sleeve of his shirt. “You would be if you just said ‘hi’ once in a while. We don’t ask you to be a party animal, just a part of the family. Sometimes, we don’t hear from you for months.”

“I have a phone now,” supplied Vincent in an attempt to drive the conversation away from accusations. He felt out of place in the world, even while he studied it. So much time had passed without and around him, but his awareness of it was fickle. “You could call.”

Tifa put her hands on her hips and leaned up into his space, on her toes. “Would you pick up?” she asked.

Vincent leaned back slightly and looked down at her. “I did when Cid called.”

For some reason, that made Tifa smile and she fell back to her heels with a bounce. “I see how it is. Okay, then." Her arms folded across her chest and she gave him a pleased look, which only served to confuse him further.

Vincent raised a brow and watched her for a moment before he clarified. “I would answer the phone if you or Cloud called.”

Tifa merely smiled at him and folded her hands behind her back. “Oh, I know you would. But there’s just something I’ve noticed. Maybe you have as well. You’re good with observations.” Tifa turned away and gave him a wide berth as she moved out of the kitchen. “Take your cloak off. Stay a while. The world’s not ending today. Maybe the armor too. You need to lighten your load. Literally and figuratively.” She winked at him and left him there to consider his options.

Vincent took a deep breath and decided she was right; he had never really been a “relaxed” person, even in his youth. He followed Tifa’s suggestion and removed his heavy cowl and gilded armor pieces and took them to her hall closet and stashed them with his gun and his glove. He did not feel vulnerable, exactly, but the layers usually gave him a shield against external discomfort. He had a long time to work on that feeling. He carefully tucked his left arm behind his back as he made his way back to the living room.

When he returned to the living room, he found everyone seated together, relaxed and casual as if it were any other family gathering. Cloud leaned up against one side of the couch while Denzel sat between himself and Sephiroth so the boy could regale him on how his schooling was going. Tifa occupied the seat where Vincent had been while Cid still sat where he’d been.

Vincent lingered in the doorway while he thought of what to do about the seating situation; there were no places left with Denzel and Tifa in the room as well. Cid moved to stand, and Vincent shook his head before he could voice his offer. Tifa started to speak when she realized she had taken his spot.

“I can stand,” he said.

“Nonsense!” said Cid. “Yer an old man, ain’tcha?” teased Cid.

Vincent frowned and crossed the room to where Cid sat and loomed over him. Even without all the trappings, he could still intimidate. “Old enough to be your father,” replied Vincent.

Cid grinned up at him. “Does that mean you want me ta call you ‘Daddy?’” he asked. Behind Vincent, Sephiroth made a noise like he’d just swallowed an insect.

“The hell’s yer problem?” asked Cid. He had to peer around Vincent to glare at Sephiroth; Vincent turned to see Sephiroth’s face turn pink at the sudden and awkward attention.

“It’s nothing,” said Sephiroth. He looked away to a blank spot on the living room wall, though Vincent could see his neck work as he swallowed in discomfort.

Vincent turned fully to Sephiroth and stood in front of him instead of allowing Cid to tease him about his age. “Is there anything else you would like to know about Lucrecia? She and I were not acquainted for long, but we confided in each other quite often.”

Sephiroth looked up from where he sat and shook his head. “I would, but not today, thank you. I believe I’ve filled my quota for emotional overdoses this week,” he said without further explanation.

Cloud picked up the slack and spoke as he pulled Denzel fully into his lap. Vincent saw the invitation for what it was and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. “Now’s just not the time, Vincent. You barely got to talk to _him_ yet.”

Cloud gave Vincent a look, one that was difficult to read but seemed rather similar to the ones Cid kept giving him since they’d arrived. There was something studious about the small, quick and repeated movements of Vincent’s eyes over his face, as if he tried to commit his features to memory. The same look was given, however briefly, to Sephiroth. Vincent took the seat between the two of them and gave both Cloud and Cid a wary eye. They _both_ scanned him or Sephiroth; Cid was simply more obvious about it.

“Cid, if you have something to say, please do,” said Sephiroth.

 _He noticed as well,_ thought Vincent. He hoped that maybe now one of them would say whatever’s on their minds and they could get on with the night. Vincent already planned to scout the area for lingering Turks when they left – one mental occupation was enough.

Cid glanced over at Cloud; somewhere between them, they seemed to agree and Cloud just nodded back at Cid. He shifted in his chair and looked, for once, at a loss for words. Vincent wondered if Cloud had taken Denzel into his lap for protection. Denzel was obviously far too grown to stay in someone’s lap – it looked comical already with him perched on Cloud’s legs.

Sephiroth cleared his throat. “I’m waiting. You keep staring at me and it’s getting-“

“I think Vincent’s yer dad, Sephiroth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this took so long, guys! I haven't been well lately and work's had me exhausted, so I tried making this longer to make up for the long delay between chapters. 
> 
> Thank you all for your patience! <3


	15. Proofing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth has a few talks, gets some advice, and makes a promise to himself.

Sephiroth stormed into what used to be Cloud’s room and paced the width of it. It might have been a little childish to storm off again, but talk about his past and his heritage was a particularly sore spot for him, and it seemed like one that Cid liked to prod at. With little regard to the consequences, Highwind just stayed on that subject.

Did he simply not know? Sephiroth wondered if Cloud had even told Cid why he’d lost his mind in the first place. Jenova had dangled everything he ever wanted right in front of him, at a time when he’d been the most vulnerable, even though he denied it. She had wormed into the cracks and crevices and filled him with false promises. She had built up his anger from the controlled simmer he’d had to a cruel, heartless rage and made him exactly what he’d thought of himself: a monster.

When he sensed a presence at the door, Sephiroth stopped his hectic strides and turned, disappointed twice over: Vincent had come to the door, and Sephiroth mentally kicked himself for having expected Cloud to chase after him. _He’s not my keeper,_ Sephiroth reminded himself.

“Yes?” asked Sephiroth. His voice came out in a dry whisper. He felt his shoulders slump instead of square off like they normally would. He was still tired of being on alert all the time.

“Cid is not very subtle, is he?” replied Vincent. He was a dark shape in the doorway, only a few smudges of pale skin and burning red irises that fixed on Sephiroth. Vincent leaned a shoulder against the door frame and lifted his left hand, the one that had caught Sephiroth’s eye earlier, but he had more tact than to outright ask about its scaly grey skin and the longer, sharper nails that accompanied it.

Certainly more tact than Highwind had.

“No, he’s not. What surprises me is that I’m aware of his remarkable mind, and yet…” Sephiroth raised a hand and gestured toward the living room.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Vincent’s lips but left just as quickly. “He’s an honest man. He says what he feels. If he said what he’s thinking, he’d probably put you to sleep.” Vincent casually rubbed his mismatched hands together, and Sephiroth had to wonder if Vincent was trying to goad him into asking about himself.

“His mouth is a font of obscenity most of the time,” replied Sephiroth.

Vincent chuckled softly at the assessment and nodded. “Of course he is. Honest people curse the most. They don’t pick and choose their words, they simply talk. As Cid is wont to do.” Vincent pushed off of the door frame and took a step closer to Sephiroth. Unlike the people in the next room, Vincent barely had to look up at him.

“For a man who had me at gun point when we first met, you’re handling this with more aplomb than I’d expect.”

Vincent tilted his head to one side, then rolled his shoulders in a half-shrug. “For what it’s worth, I apologize.”

Sephiroth smiled in response, the expression lingered longer than Vincent’s had. “For what it’s worth, I accept, though, you’re not the first and I doubt you’ll be the last.”

“Then you haven’t met Barrett yet,” replied Vincent. He folded his arms over his chest and sighed. “I doubt Yuffie will be very pleased at your return as well.”

Sephiroth picked up the change of subject but didn’t appreciate it. He decided to persist anyway. “Vincent, did… did Lucrecia want to bring back Jenova?”

Vincent glanced his way, but then turned and put his back to Sephiroth. “I don’t know. I think she was swept up in the project, either blinded by Gast’s optimism or too afraid to deny Hojo and his part in it.” Vincent’s shoulders slumped a little and he dropped his head. “…That is what I’ve chosen to believe.”

Sephiroth stepped up slowly behind Vincent and reached out to gently put a hand on his shoulder. He was pleasantly surprised to find Vincent did not shove him away. It _seemed_ like something the man would have done, but he let Sephiroth in, just slightly.

“All I know for certain is the remorse she felt for making you a part of all of it. She could see what you were going to do, so she-“

“Wait,” interrupted Sephiroth. He moved to stand in front of Vincent, who straightened up to meet Sephiroth’s gaze. “She had visions?”

“…Yes?”

“So have I.”

Vincent blinked in what Sephiroth could only imagine was disbelief – Vincent’s face was very difficult to read – so Sephiroth explained. “When I first arrived… I mean, _this_ incarnation, I had a ‘vision’ too. Aerith said-“

Now Vincent interrupted. “ _Aerith_ gave you this vision?”

“She told me there were many choices from that particular point. I could choose to ultimately become Jenova’s vessel, or… have a family.” Sephiroth peeked over his shoulder toward the door in case someone might overhear, but there was no sound from the open door. Sephiroth looked back to Vincent and decided then that he needed more than just Tifa as a confidant. “With Cloud.”

Instead of reacting in any way even similar to how Tifa had taken the news, Vincent simply asked “Why Cloud?”

“I’m not certain.” Sephiroth looked away and rubbed his face to make sure that he hadn’t turned red again. It felt cool compared to the burning blush he’d had with Tifa’s earlier statement. “Tifa seems to think I have a …crush… on Cloud.”

Vincent, again so collected for a man who had been told he fathered the vessel for Jenova, merely shrugged. “It’s possible that you have an interest in him. He was your focal point for a long time, in both anger and sorrow. And now he is helping you start a new life for yourself. He’s shown you a kind hand, but I caution you.” Sephiroth raised a brow when Vincent paused. “Do not mistake infatuation for genuine affection. Unrequited infatuation can be blinding. At times, maddening.”

Sephiroth barely suppressed an amused snort. “I’m not a child. I know better than to get hung up on some… generosity.”

“I meant your vision,” replied Vincent. “You saw a most favorable outcome, even if you don’t understand the logic behind it. It would be unfair to both of you if you focused on one potential point. Even Lucrecia could not see everything that was laid out for the future.”

“I’m aware…” said Sephiroth. “I’m also not so childish as to think that Cloud would reciprocate simply because I wanted him to. I don’t even understand why he would choose me at all, frankly.”

“Perhaps you will show yourself to be the hero you were meant to be,” offered Vincent. He began to walk and made a circle around Sephiroth, which he followed Vincent’s path by turning. “As far as how they handle you so far, I believe them to be waiting.”

Sephiroth raised a brow and leaned forward, eyes on Vincent to elaborate. “Waiting for what? For me to snap? Show my true colors? Try to kill Cloud in his sleep?”

“Yes.” Vincent tilted his head to one side and stared at Sephiroth, but it gave him the feeling of being studied again. “As a dog bite makes a man afraid of dogs for the rest of his life, your actions in the past do not make you the most trustworthy of people.”

Sephiroth drew his shoulders back and stiffened his spine. “I’m aware of that,” he said.

“And like a dog that bites, we’re all left wondering if you can be retrained, if that’s something you even _want._ Or should you be put down?” Vincent folded his mismatched arms in front of himself and took a step forward. Though slightly shorter, the power of his bright stare did make Sephiroth feel like he was being looked down upon anyway. “Redemption is not a place one reaches easily. Do you even wish to be a better man?”

Sephiroth tensed up and pulled his lips into a thin line. They stood toe-to-toe with one another, and Vincent did not intimidate him in the least, but Sephiroth felt a sort of pressure emanate from Vincent and he was the first to take a step back.

“I don’t know what I want,” he admitted. “Much of what I did was unforgiveable. Why Cloud and Tifa would be so kind to me now…”

“Because they don’t want a repeat of the past. I am certain you’ve noticed by now their generosity toward homeless strangers.” Vincent circled Sephiroth again, and he wished Vincent would stop that – he felt surrounded by only one man. It didn’t help that he still felt “pressure” radiate from Vincent’s direction. “I have come to know the two of them rather well since we first hunted you, Sephiroth.” Vincent stopped his movement and turned. Once again, his eyes locked on Sephiroth’s and this time, the pressure made him feel dizzy, as if a thunderstorm had snuck into the room with them. “Right now, you’re a homeless man that they’ve taken in, given work and shelter. You just so happen to look like the man that destroyed their hometown. So I will warn you, Sephiroth, again, do not let infatuation and expectation get the better of you. Once you settle in, once you reveal more of yourself to them, once anger enters the picture… you may find their care to be very brittle.”

Sephiroth stared after Vincent and held his hands up. “Are you saying I should leave them? Do you think Cloud would even allow that? He’s been very adamant about knowing where I am at all times. I am under no illusion that Tifa’s generous offer to employ me is little more than a way to keep me under guard while Cloud is away.”

Vincent nodded then and turned toward the door. “I’m glad you understand. Now, we will leave this room and eat dinner, and go our respective ways. There are Turks watching this place, which I will deal with when we leave. You will go with Cloud to your residence and be the good boy you think they want you to be. As much as your life has changed already, the wheel of fortune keeps turning, Sephiroth.” Vincent paused at the door and gripped the frame with his gray-black hand. “If you ever wish to visit your real mother, Cloud has my number.”

Vincent left Sephiroth alone in Cloud’s old room. He stood there and watched the empty door and could hear the chatter of people, of a family, engaged in conversation. From there, he could smell the food they ate when it was delivered, but he felt his own appetite had dissolved.

With no furniture in Cloud’s old room, Tifa had turned it into something of a storage space, but the few boxes inside gave him no place to sit or lean. Instead, Sephiroth just paced back and forth and thought. Thought about Vincent’s warning, and Cid’s blurt that they could be related.

 _I can’t see it_ , he thought, but then again, Sephiroth rarely thought of himself in terms of how he looked, or whom. His face was just a mask, and though he’d heard people call him “handsome” or “beautiful,” it had never felt like it applied. _Though…_ he wondered if Vincent had followed him to see if any of their features really _did_ line up, or if perhaps he looked like his mother.

…His _mother_. A real mother, a woman who gave birth to him. Sephiroth thought on Jenova, how she whispered dark promises and called out to him. Now, he felt nothing. His mind was eerily quiet again, a familiar feeling from long before Nibelheim. The emptiness was no longer as vast, and he did not feel as hollow as he had before he met Genesis and Angeal, but he had yet to ever feel whole… complete. The alien thing he’d found in the reactor had filled the gaps in his mind with false promises and left him with little room to breathe on his own; spaces he gave up willingly to just numb the ache he’d felt in his loneliness.

 _…But now I’m here with you …_ Sephiroth rubbed at his face as he recalled those words. The shower of sparks and oil when he ripped apart the machine. The fight with Zack and then Cloud… Cloud had ended him in a burst of furious strength. And he had gone down with the head of Jenova in his arms, just so he wouldn’t die alone.

 _Yet… **She** never truly dies, does she?_ Sephiroth chewed on his lower lip in thought. His body, and Cloud’s, held Jenova cells enough. Vincent told him that Lucrecia held more. He glanced toward the open doorway again and found it lacking.

 _I can’t allow her to reunite,_ he thought to himself. _My dreams are still in my head. It may not be her voice, but it could still be her work…_ He took a deep breath and moved toward the door.

 _Or **I** could just be making it up this time. _ He could feel old walls try rebuild themselves inside his chest, ones he had designed a long time ago when he had been the shining star of ShinRa’s army.His hand settled on the doorframe as he steeled himself and organized his thoughts. Too much went on. He was just supposed to be building a new life for himself. What had happened to that? In just two days? He felt the need to withdraw pull strongly against his desire to be a better person.

 _No, I can’t just **block** people again,_ Sephiroth thought. He rubbed at his eyes. A wave of exhaustion tore at his resolve, but he pushed it down where he needed it to be so he could rejoin the rest of AVALANCHE in Tifa’s living room. _I have to try to reach out… I have to trust someone again…_ he thought as he moved, slowly and quietly, toward the opening where the living room was. Denzel had taken up the space in the middle of the couch and Vincent the end nearest to Cid. He observed Denzel tell something about his school day to Cloud, and Cloud smile fondly for the boy. It was both foreign and familiar to see that look; the Cloud of his vision had such a smile – he couldn’t _possibly_ have known what it would look like before, could he? Not enough for himself or Jenova to fabricate something so genuine.

“Cloud,” he said, before he could stop himself from speaking. Everyone glanced at him; Vincent and Tifa gave him slightly longer looks before they engaged in conversation again. Cloud just looked up from his food with a slight tilt of his head.

“Yeah?”

Sephiroth cleared his throat. “May I speak with you a moment? Privately?” His throat felt dry and constricted, but he had to confess if he was going to continue to play at normalcy. He watched Cloud get up from his seat and promise Denzel that he’d be right back and dusted his hands on his pants.

“You know, the food’s getting cold… I mean, I know we just had pizza last night…” trailed Cloud as he followed Sephiroth to his old room.

“Yes. You’re both rather fond of it,” said Sephiroth. He looked away and picked at his bottom lip a moment before he got to his business. “Cloud, when I said that Tifa… she thinks…”

“Thaaaaaat… you have a crush on me,” prompted Cloud. His grin in return was somewhat fond, or perhaps he thought the idea was quaint. That his former enemy, the great General Sephiroth, could have a crush on him. **Feelings**. Messy, human feelings. At another time, it might have seemed adorable.

Sephiroth pressed on his face with the palm of his hand. _This is so embarrassing… I’m **amusing** to him…_ he thought. He felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Yes,” he said, slurred by his own hand. “It’s silly, isn’t it?”

Cloud shrugged and shook his head. “Not really. I had a crush on you, a long time ago.”

“Which you said was pathetic,” replied Sephiroth, as he pulled his hand away from his mouth. “Crushes are pathetic.”

“Noooooo, that’s not what I said. I said _I_ was pathetic. I was a scrawny little runt who bet the course of his life on a hot guy he saw in the news.” Cloud laughed and rubbed at his arm. “I may never have made it as a SOLDIER, but the life I’ve got now isn’t so bad. Sometimes, there’s nightmares… sometimes there’s just a lot of crying in the dark. But I’m here. The road there was rough, but I think it was worth it.”

Sephiroth swallowed a hard lump in his throat. Cloud never told him about nightmares, or crying, not that he was obligated to. “Has that happened… since I…?”

“Well, not since we moved, no. But that first week, when you came back, I did. I managed to keep it to myself, at least until you were well in the basement,” admitted Cloud. “There was some drinking and a lot of cuddling with Tifa and wanting to punch you in the face.”

“I’m sorry.” Sephiroth reached out and put his hand on Cloud’s shoulder. _Reach out. Trust **someone**._ His inner voice sounded like his own, mingled with memories of Angeal encouraging him to do just that.

“I know I’ve caused you – and Tifa – the most grief. And, with Vincent’s advice, I’ve realized that you’re just… you took me in like I wasn’t the man I am. But you’re waiting, right? For me to lose it again?” Sephiroth drew back his hand and rubbed at his neck. He had never felt this kind of imbalance. It had begun to occur to him that he really had relied on ShinRa’s structure to take care of most of his needs, and people he didn’t want near him were simply shuffled away. Even Zack had been assigned away from him if Sephiroth wanted him to stay away.

Cloud looked away from Sephiroth and sighed. There was a wariness to him, his shoulders slumped and crooked in a way that Sephiroth had rarely seen from him. “Yeah, I am. I want to believe you… so does Tifa, but…”

“You can’t just trust me to be on my own.” Sephiroth said quietly. “I can’t either, frankly.”

“Do we have to talk about this now?”

Sephiroth took a grounding breath and shook his head. “No.” He needed to find a way to bring up the dream. All things had been considered, and with Tifa’s words in mind, Sephiroth had decided to tell Cloud, but to get to that point was a meandering path and Sephiroth didn’t know how to reach that point.

Cloud drew in a deep enough breath that he stood taller before he let it out with a slouch. “I want to trust you, though. You’re putting in a hell of an effort when you just as well could have fucked off and tried to start the apocalypse again, but…”

Sephiroth leaned in Cloud’s direction so much that he had to brace himself with a step forward or fall on his face. “But, what?”

“I keep thinking about what you did when you first came back, when I found you, half conscious and basically at my mercy.” Cloud turned sideways and lifted his hands. “Face covered in dirt, on your knees, half-dazed but your eyes… they were fixed right on me… which was normal, but you weren’t smirking, or angry. I didn’t feel like a target.”

Sephiroth nodded slowly and waited. Cloud had been building to something, perhaps this _was_ a conversation that they needed to have. It simply took Cid Highwind’s bluntness to shove them off the edge and look closer at each other.

“You really did look tired. You could have left me in the Sleeping Forest. You didn’t have to give Tifa your sword. I think I’m still trying to figure out why.” Cloud looked up at Sephiroth and gave a weakened smile. “Maybe you had a crush on me the whole time,” he teased.

“Mm… about that…” started Sephiroth.

“Wait, really?!”

Sephiroth let out a startled chuckle at the look of surprise and perhaps cautious optimism on Cloud’s face. “I don’t mean it like that, I just mean that… since you first beat me, I admit a certain fixation on you. From when you got the drop on me and impaled me on Zack’s sword, to, well… now.” Sephiroth felt his face heat up a little at the implication. “You’re a complicated man, Cloud. You care for strangers and hold friends to scrutiny…”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘scrutiny.’” Cloud had interrupted him again, but Sephiroth let it go. “If someone sets a standard for their behavior, I know, generally, what to expect. For a while, that included you, but you’ve caught me off guard a lot lately, so I’m trying my best to give you a clean slate, but I’m not going to forget the past, either.” Cloud put his hands on Sephiroth’s shoulders so they looked each other in the eyes.

“I understand,” replied Sephiroth. He stayed where he was; his eyes fixed on Cloud’s, and sighed. “I have to tell you something. Tifa… already knows about it. About what happened in those moments before you found me.”

Sephiroth pulled Cloud down to the bare floor for them to sit. He had a feeling that Cloud was going to need to take a seat, and better they talk in relative privacy than he try to tell the story in front of everyone. Especially Cid and Vincent. Vincent might not approve, and Cid would probably poke a hole in everything out of his mouth. He needed Cloud’s attention solely on him. _That’s what you seem to want from him the most…_ some part of him teased before he got down to business.

Sephiroth told Cloud about his vision. Every bit of the dream he’d had. It began in the deserted wasteland and their never ending fight, in fuller detail than he’d glossed over before. How the Planet and Jenova just continued to use them forever. Of being startled at his own corrupted form and them killing each other, just to wake up and start fighting again. Cloud sat beside him during that part, but began to shift away when he started on the other, more pleasant vision. Sephiroth hesitated when he got to Zack, and Cloud looked ready to bolt from the room; his mouth was agape and Sephiroth could see every bit of Mako-blue in Cloud’s irises. He had expected Cloud to get up and walk away, to strike him in retribution for even dragging Zack into his concussed fantasy, but Cloud just sat there and stared.

When he got to the part concerning his return to consciousness, Sephiroth’s throat was dry. Cloud had listened well, but seemed to be in shock over Zack being their son. Not just _his_ son, but that they had adopted the boy together. Sephiroth pressed on before he lost Cloud to wonder if Zack had come back already and was out there, somewhere, waiting for one of them.

“Before I woke up, Aerith gave me a choice. I could let Jenova, and my fury, continue to control me without context or reasoning, or I could get back all those memories I had discarded.” Sephiroth swallowed to relieve his dry throat. “When I realized I could still _feel_ anything other than rage, I didn’t think about it. I know myself well enough that if I analyzed it, I would have rejected her offer.” Sephiroth looked toward Cloud, glad to see that shock had worn away with his admittance that he’d acted on his own wants, rather than his so-called mother’s.

Cloud leaned his shoulder against Sephiroth’s side, just a quick bump of arms before he drew away again. “You let yourself be impulsive? I’m surprised.” A faint smile grew on Cloud’s lips, but Sephiroth also had the feeling that he might have given Cloud a reason to become distant. Their eyes didn’t meet for long before Cloud’s gaze drifted away.

“I don’t expect you to believe what I saw was anything more than perhaps a fevered dream conjured of whatever memories I had left, Cloud,” continued Sephiroth. “ _I_ wouldn’t date me, let alone _marry_ me. The Lifestream is certainly smart enough to want to protect itself with a powerful hallucination.”

Cloud shook his head. “It at least explains a few things, though. Lingering looks and your propensity for falling asleep on me.” He tilted his head and gave Sephiroth a once-over with his eyes. “And why you sadsturbated in the shower last night.” There was a knowing smirk on his lips.

It took Sephiroth a moment to understand Cloud’s portmanteau, but when it occurred to him, Sephiroth blushed hotly and looked away. “You couldn’t possibly know what I did in the shower. Other than wash up.”

Cloud chuckled and surprised Sephiroth with an arm across his shoulders. “We live in a cheap two bedroom. I heard you groan. Even though you tried – and failed – to muffle yourself. Also, you know… J-Cells.” Cloud paused and tapped the side of his own head with a wince. “I don’t think I… _experienced_ it with you, but I felt like you were calling me all the same.”

Sephiroth glanced down at the grossly yellow and purple bruise on his forearm and covered it with his other hand. “Well now… that’s certainly embarrassing,” he muttered. “It’s going to make living together awkward.”

Cloud laughed again and stood up. He held both hands out to Sephiroth to help him off the floor. “Well, I can’t say I haven’t done the same at some point. Let’s just hope it doesn’t have a long reach. That would make dating anyone else rather difficult.”

Sephiroth took Cloud’s hands and gripped gently as he was helped up and stood over him. “Mocking of me aside, what do you think of that dream? Might it be a real vision, or the more likely scenario of my… simply desiring a better life?”

Cloud looked down at Sephiroth’s hands and smoothed his thumbs over the backs as he thought about his answer. “I don’t know much about visions, or divination, or whatever. But, I think… if you really want a family, you could have one.” He looked up at Sephiroth. “As far as my role in it… you’d really have to earn it. You’re doing good so far, but I _am_ waiting for something bad to happen. I don’t want to let my guard down, yet. Because if I do, and you lose it…” Cloud let go of Sephiroth and gestured between them. “We’re gonna have the unhappy ending.”

Sephiroth shuddered uncomfortably and nodded. “I understand. Especially about letting your guard down… and being betrayed.” He paused and folded his hands together as he reined in the impulse to touch Cloud again. “You took that vision seriously…”

“Yeah, well… I don’t really know how true it actually is. Aerith does a lot of things with the Lifestream that I don’t think I’d ever understand, but I trust her. If it’s real…” Cloud shrugged. “Maybe we’ll both get closure. If it’s not, I hope it gave you a real dream to follow.” Sephiroth could see Cloud’s throat work as if he choked down more he wanted to say, but instead, Cloud turned and headed toward the door. “They’re gonna think we’ve been making out in here. At least Cid will,” said Cloud. He gave Sephiroth a flat smile; it was not the genuine affection spared for Denzel or his other family members. It was for show, and Sephiroth knew the difference.

 _It **does** bother him…_ Sephiroth thought. He took a deep breath and caught up to Cloud in a couple long strides. _But… I don’t have to include him. I don’t._

Sephiroth followed Cloud out of the old bedroom and into the living room, where Cloud was greeted by his own family. _I can work on building my own…_ As he watched Cloud sit beside Denzel again and pull the boy close, Sephiroth made a promise to himself.

_I can embrace my own dreams._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this part. If you notice, the last few chapters were within the same couple of days of story. So, this concludes a "section" of the story. Onwards, upwards, squidwards! 
> 
> ...Okay, not Squidward. :D But focus will start to shift a bit with the upcoming chapters. 
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos and comments, as always. You guys keep me going! Hope you continue to enjoy it!
> 
> Addendum: This is the last chapter for this particular arc. I want to go further ahead in the story, so the next arc will begin later on after this, and will be called: Shadows of Things That Have Been. (Kind of keeping with the Christmas Carol theme)
> 
> Now with a link to the next arc: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5044171/chapters/11597449


End file.
